LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 


OTHER  NOVELS  BY  DAVID  GRAHAM  PHILLIPS 


THE  SECOND  GENERATION 
THE  DELUGE 
THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY 
THE  PLUM  TREE 


THE  COST 

THE  MASTER  ROGUE 

GOLDEN  FLEECE 

A  WOMAN  VENTURES 


NEVA. 


LIGHT-FINGERED 
GENTRY 


BY 

DAVID   GRAHAM   PHILLIPS 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SECOND  GENERATION,"  ETC. 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

NEW   YORK 

MCMVII 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  1907,  BY 
THE  PEARSON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Published,  September,  . 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — A  MATRIMONIAL  MISTAKE.     '. "     .       *       .  1 

II. — A  FEAST  AND  A  FIASCO      .       .       .       .  -  .  12 

III.— "ONLY  COUSIN  NEVA"       .       .       .       .       .  27 

IV.— THE  FOSDICK  FAMILY         .       .       .       .        .  38 

V. — NARCISSE  AND  ALOIS    ...       .       .        .  55 

VI. — NEVA  GOES  TO  SCHOOL      .       .       ...  65 

VII. — A  WOMAN'S  POINT  OF  VIEW      .       .       .       .  85 

VIII.— IN  NEVA'S  STUDIO 98 

IX. — MASTER  AND  MAN 107 

X. — AMY  SWEET  AND  AMY  SOUR      .        .        .        .116 

XI. — AT  MRS.  TRAFFORD'S  .        .               .        .        .  128 

XIL— "WE  NEVER  WERE" 147 

XIII. — OVERLOOK  LODGE 160 

XIV. — WOMAN'S  DISTRUST — AND  TRUST      .        .        .  174 

XV. — ARMSTRONG  SWOOPS 192 

XVI.— HUGO  SHOWS  His  METTLE         ....  202 

XVII. — VIOLETTE'S  TAPESTRIES 213 

XVIII. — ARMSTRONG  PROPOSES 228 

XIX.— Two  TELEPHONE  TALKS 245 

M222Q2 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAQE 

XX. — BORIS  DISCLOSES  HIMSELF         ....  257 

XXI.— A  SENSATIONAL  DAY 269 

XXII.— A  DUEL  AFTER  LUNCH 292 

XXIII.— "THE  WOMAN  BORIS  LOVED"  ....  310 

XXIV.— NEVA  SOLVES  A  RIDDLE 324 

XXV.— Two  WOMEN  INTERVENE 336 

XXVI. — TRAFFORD  AS  A  DOVE  OF  PEACE     .        .        .  354 

XXVII.— BREAKFAST  AL  FRESCO 366 

XXVIII.— FORAGING  FOR  SON-IN-LAW        .        .        .        .380 

XXIX.— "IF  I  MARRIED  You" 395 

XXX.— BY  A  TRICK 407 

XXXI.— "I  DON'T  TRUST  HIM" 424 

XXXII. — ARMSTRONG  ASKS  A  FAVOR        ....  440 


VI 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


NEVA  ........  Frontispiece 

"She  was  giving  Alois  a  free  hand  in  planning  surround 
ings  "         .        .....        .        .        .        .    120 

'"I  felt  I  must  see  you — must  see  you  at  once'"  .        .    332 
"'You  are  my  life,  the  light  on  my  path'"      .       .        .   376 


LIGHT-FINGERED  GENTRY 


A    MATRIMONIAL    MISTAKE 

TOWARD  noon  on  a  stifling  July  day,  a  woman,  a 
young  woman,  left  the  main  walk  through  the  deserted 
college  grounds  at  Battle  Field,  and  entered  the  path 
that  makes  a  faint  tracing  down  the  middle  of  Pine 
Point.  That  fingerlike  peninsula  juts  far  into  Otter 
Lake ;  it  is  a  thicket  of  white  pines,  primeval,  odorous. 
Not  a  ripple  was  breaking  the  lake's  broad,  burnished 
reach.  The  snowy  islets  of  summer  cloud  hung  mo 
tionless,  like  frescoes  in  an  azure  ceiling.  But  among 
the  pines  it  was  cool,  and  even  murmurously  musical. 

In  dress  the  young  woman  was  as  somber  as  the 
foliage  above  and  around  her.  Her  expression,  also, 
was  somber — with  the  soberness  of  the  ascetic,  or  of  the 
exceedingly  shy,  rather  than  of  the  sad.  She  seemed 
to  diffuse  a  chill,  like  the  feel  of  a  precious  stone — 
the  absence  of  heat  found  both  in  those  who  have  never 
been  kindled  by  the  fire  of  life  and  in  those  in  whom 
that  fire  has  burned  itself  out.  There  was  not  a  trace 
of  coquetry  in  her  appearance,  no  attempt  to  display  to 
advantage  good  points  that  ought  to  have  been  charms. 
She  was  above  the  medium  height,  and  seemed  taller  by 
reason  of  the  singular  conformation  of  her  face  and 
figure.  Her  face  was  long  and  slim,  and  also  her  body, 

1 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

and  her  neck  and  arms ;  her  hands,  ungloved,  and  her 
feet,  revealed  by  her  walking  skirt,  had  ±he  same  char 
acteristic  ;  the  line  from  her  throat  to  the  curve  of  her 
bosom  was  of  unusual  length,  and  also  the  line  of  her 
back,  of  her  waist,  of  her  legs.  Her  hair  was  abundant, 
but  he  one  would  have  guessed  how  abundant,  or  how 
varied  its  tints,  so  severely  was  it  plaited  and  bound  to 
V-r  head  Her  eyes  were  of  that  long  narrow  kind 
which  most  women,  fortunate  enough  to  possess  them, 
know  how  to  use  with  an  effect  at  once  satanic  and 
angelic,  at  once  provoking  and  rebuking  passions  tem 
pestuous.  But  this  woman  had  somehow  contrived  to 
reduce  even  those  eyes  to  the  apparently  enforced  puri- 
tanism  of  the  rest  of  her  exterior.  She  had  the  ele 
ments  of  beauty,  of  a  rare  beauty;  yet  beautiful  she 
was  not.  It  was  as  if  nature  had  molded  her  for  love 
and  life,  and  then,  in  cruel  f reakishness,  had  failed  to 
breathe  into  her  the  vital  breath.  A  close  observer 
might  have  wondered  whether  this  exterior  was  not  a 
mask  deliberately  held  immobile  and  severe  over  an  in 
tense,  insurgent  heart  and  mind.  But  close  observers 
are  few,  and  such  a  secret — if  secret  she  had — would 
pass  unsuspected  of  mere  shallow  curiosity. 

Within  a  few  yards  of  the  end  of  the  peninsula  she 
lifted  her  gaze  from  the  ground,  on  which  it  had  been 
steadily  bent.  Across  her  face  drifted  a  slight  smile — 
cold,  or  was  it  merely  shy?  It  revealed  the  even  edge 
of  teeth  of  that  blue-white  which  is  beautiful  only  when 
the  complexion  is  clear  and  fine — and  her  complexion 
was  dull,  sallow,  as  if  from  recent  illness  or  much  and 
harassing  worry.  The  smile  was  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  salutation  of  a  man  who  had  thrown  away  a  half- 
finished  cigarette  and  had  risen  from  the  bench  at  the 
water's  edge. 


A    MATRIMONIAL    MISTAKE 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Neva,"  said  he,  politely  enough,  but 
with  look  and  tone  no  man  addresses  to  a  woman  who 
has  for  him  the  slightest  sex  interest. 

"  How  are  you,  Horace,"  said  she,  losing  the  faint 
animation  her  smile  had  given  her  face.  Somewhat 
constrainedly,  either  from  coldness  or  from  embarrass 
ment,  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

They  seated  themselves  on  the  bench  with  its  many 
carvings  of  initials  and  fraternity  symbols.  She  took 
advantage  of  his  gaze  out  over  the  lake  to  look  at  him ; 
but  her  eyes  were  inscrutable.  He  was  a  big,  powerful- 
looking  man — built  on  the  large  plan,  within  as  well 
as  without,  if  the  bold  brow  and  eyes  and  the  strong 
mouth,  unconcealed  by  his  close-cropped  fair  mustache, 
did  not  mislead.  At  first  glance  he  seemed  about 
thirty;  but  there  were  in  his  features  lines  of  experi 
ence,  of  firmness,  of  formed  character,  of  achievement, 
that  could  not  have  come  with  many  less  than  forty 
years.  He  looked  significant,  successful,  the  man  who 
is  much  and  shall  be  more.  He  was  dressed  more  fash 
ionably  than  would  be  regarded  as  becoming  in  a  man  of 
affairs,  except  in  two  or  three  of  our  largest  cities.  In 
contrast  with  his  vivid,  aggressive  personality — or, 
was  it  simply  because  of  shy,  siipersensitive  shrinking 
in  his  presence? — the  young  woman  now  seemed  color 
less  and  even  bleak. 

After  a  silence  which  she  was  unable  or  unwilling  to 
break,  he  said,  "  This  is  very  mysterious,  Neva — this 
sending  for  me  to  meet  you — secretly." 

"  I  was  afraid  it  might  not  be  pleasant  for  you — at 
the  house,"  replied  she  hesitatingly. 

His  air  of  surprise  was  not  quite  sincere.  "  Why 
not  ? "  he  inquired.  "  There  isn't  anyone  I  esteem 
more  highly  than  your  father,  and  he  likes  me.  If  he 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

didn't  he  would  not  have  done  all  the  things  that  put 
me  under  such  a  heavy  debt  of  gratitude  to  him."  His 
tone  suggested  that  he  had  to  remind  himself  of  the 
debt  often  lest  he  should  be  guilty  of  the  baseness  of 
forgetting  it. 

"  It  was  eighteen  months  yesterday,"  said  she, 
"  since  you  were — at  the  house." 

He  frowned  at  what  he  evidently  regarded  as  a  dis 
agreeable  and  therefore  tactless  reminder.  "  Really  ? 
Time  races  for  those  who  have  something  to  do  besides 
watch  the  clock."  Then,  ashamed  of  his  irritation,  "  I 
suppose  it's  impossible,  in  an  uneventful  place  like  this, 
to  appreciate  how  the  current  of  a  city  like  Chicago 
sweeps  a  man  along  and  won't  release  him.  There's  so 
much  to  think  about,  one  has  no  time  for  anything." 

"  Except  the  things  that  are  important  to  one,"  re 
plied  she.  "  Don't  misunderstand,  please.  I'm  only 
stating  a  fact — not  reproaching  you — not  at  all." 

"  So,  your  father  has  turned  against  me." 

"  He  has  said  nothing.  But  his  expression,  when  I 
happened  to  speak  of  you  the  other  day,  told  me  it 
would  be  better  for  you  not  to  come  to  the  house — at 
least,  until  we  had  had  a  talk." 

"  Well,  Neva,  I  don't  feel  I  have  any  reason  to  re 
proach  myself.  I'm  not  the  sort  of  man  who  stands 
about  on  the  tail  of  his  wife's  dress  or  sits  round  the 
house  in  slippers.  I'm  trying  to  make  a  career,  and 
that  means  work." 

"  Chicago  is  only  six  hours  from  Battle  Field,"  she 
said  with  curiously  quiet  persistence. 

"  When  I  got  the  position  in  Chicago,"  he  reminded 
her  with  some  asperity,  "  I  asked  you  to  go  with  me. 
You  refused." 

"  Did  you  wish  me  to  go  ?  " 
4* 


A    MATRIMONIAL   MISTAKE 

"  Did  you  wish  to  go?  " 

She  was  silent. 

"  You  know  you  did  not,"  he  went  on.  "  We  had 
been  married  nearly  six  years,  and  you  cared  no  more 
about  me — "  He  paused  to  seek  a  comparison. 

"  Than  you  cared  for  me,"  she  suggested.  Then, 
with  a  little  more  energy  and  color,  "  I  repeat,  Horace, 
I'm  not  reproaching  you.  All  I  want  is  that  you  be 
frank.  I  asked  you  to  come  here  to-day  that  we  might 
talk  over  our  situation  honestly.  How  can  we  be  hon 
est  with  each  other  if  you  begin  by  pretending  that 
business  is  your  reason  for  staying  away?  " 

He  studied  her  unreadable,  impassive  face.  In  all 
the  years  of  their  married  life  she  had  never  shown  such 
energy  or  interest,  except  about  her  everlasting  paint 
ing,  which  she  was  always  mussing  with,  shut  away 
from  everybody ;  and  never  had  she  been  so  communica 
tive.  But  it  was  too  late,  far  too  late,  for  any  sign  of 
personality,  however  alluringly  suggestive  of  mystery 
unexplored,  to  rouse  him  to  interest  in  her.  He  was 
looking  at  her  merely  because  he  wished  to  discover 
what  she  was  just  now  beating  toward.  "  In  the  fall," 
he  said,  "  I'm  going  to  New  York  to  live.  Of  course, 
that  will  mean  even  fewer  chances  of  my  coming — 
here — coming  home." 

At  the  word  "  home,"  which  she  had  avoided  using, 
a  smile — her  secret  smile — flitted  into  her  face,  in 
stantly  died  away  again.  He  colored. 

"  I  heard  you  were  going  to  New  York,"  said  she. 
"  I  saw  it  in  the  newspapers." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  not  wish  to — to  leave  your 
father,"  he  resumed  cautiously,  as  if  treading  danger 
ous  ground. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  ?  " 
5 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

He  did  not  answer.  A  prolonged  silence  which  she 
broke :  "  You  see,  Horace,  I  was  right.  We  mustn't 
any  longer  refuse  to  look  our  situation  squarely  in  the 
face." 

His  heart  leaped.  When  he  got  her  letter  with  its 
mysterious,  urgent  summons,  a  hope  had  sprung  within 
him ;  but  he  had  quickly  dismissed  it  as  a  mere  offspring 
of  his  longing  for  freedom — had  there  ever  been  an  in 
stance  of  a  woman's  releasing  a  man  who  was  on  his 
way  up?  But  now,  he  began  to  hope  again. 

"  Ever  since  the  baby  was  born — dead,"  she  went 
on,  face  and  voice  calm,  but  fingers  fiercely  interlocked 
under  a  fold  of  her  dress  where  he  could  not  see,  "  I've 
been  thinking  we  ought  not  to  let  our  mistake  grow 
into  a  tragedy." 

"Our  mistake?" 

"  Our  marriage." 

He  waited  until  he  could  conceal  his  astonishment 
before  he  said,  "  You,  too,  feel  it  was  a  mistake  ?  " 

"  I  feared  so,  when  we  were  marrying,"  she  replied. 
"  I  knew  it,  when  I  saw  how  hard  you  ere  trying  to  do 
your  *  duty  '  as  a  husband — oh,  yes,  I  saw.  And,  when 
the  baby  and  the  suffering  failed  to  bring  us  together, 
only  showed  how  far  apart  we  were,  I  realized  there 
wasn't  any  hope.  You  would  have  told  me,  would  have 
asked  for  your  freedom — yes,  I  saw  that,  too — if  it 
hadn't  been  for  the  feeling  you  had  about  father — and, 
perhaps  also — "  She  paused,  then  went  bravely  on, 
"  — because  you  were  ashamed  of  having  married  me 
for  other  reasons  than  love.  Don't  deny  it,  please. 
To-day,  we  can  speak  the  truth  to  each,  other  without 
bitterness." 

"  I  shan't  deny,"  replied  he.  "  I  saw  that  your 
father,  who  had  done  everything  for  me,  had  his  heart 

6 


A    MATRIMONIAL   MISTAKE 

set  on  the  marriage.  And  I'll  even  admit  I  was  daz 
zled  by  the  fact  that  yours  was  one  of  the  first  and 
richest  families  in  the  State — I,  who  was  obscure  and 
poor.  It  wasn't  difficult  for  me  to  deceive  myself  into 
thinking  my  awe  of  you  was  the  feeling  a  man  ought  to 
have  for  the  woman  he  marries."  He  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  she  was  there.  "  I  had  worked  hard,  too 
hard,  at  college,"  he  went  on.  "  I  was  exhausted — 
without  courage.  The  obstacles  to  my  getting  where 
I  was  determined  to  go  staggered  me.  To  marry  you 
seemed  to  promise  a  path  level  and  straight  to  success." 

"  I  understand,"  she  said.  Her  voice  startled 
him  back  to  complete  consciousness  of  her  presence. 
"  There  was  more  excuse  for  you  than  for  me." 

"  That's  it !  "  he  cried.  "  What  puzzles  me,  what 
I've  often  asked  myself  is,  '  Why  did  she  marry  me?  ' 

"  Not  for  the  reason  you  think,"  evaded  she. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  asked,  his  tone  not  wholly  easy. 

"  It  wasn't  because  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
have  a  distinguished  career." 

This  penetration  disconcerted  him,  surprised  him. 
And  he  might  have  gone  on  to  suspect  he  would  do  well 
to  revise  his  estimate  of  her,  formed  in  the  first  months 
of  their  married  life  and  never  since  even  questioned, 
had  not  her  next  remark  started  a  fresh  train  of 
thought.  "  So,"  she  said,  with  her  faint  smile,  "  you 
see  you've  had  no  ground  for  the  fear  that,  no  matter 
how  plainly  you  might  show  me  you  wished  to  be  free, 
I'd  hold  on  to  you." 

"  A  woman  might  have  other  reasons  than  mere  sor- 
didness  for  not  freeing  a  man,"  replied  he,  on  the  de 
fensive. 

"  She  might  think  she  had." 

"  That  is  cynical,"  said  he,  once  more  puzzled. 
7 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

"  The  truth  often  is — as  we  both  well  know,"  re 
plied  she.  Then,  abruptly,  but  with  no  surface  trace 
of  effort :  "  You  wish  to  be  free.  Well,  you  are  free." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Neva?"  he  demanded, 
ashamed  of  the  exultation  that  surged  up  in  him,  and 
trying  to  conceal  it. 

"  Just  what  I  say,"  was  her  quiet  answer. 

After  a  pause,  he  asked  with  gentle  consideration  of 
strong  for  weak  that  made  her  wince,  "  Neva,  have  you 
consulted  with  anyone — with  your  father  or  brother  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  spoken  to  them  about  it.  Why  should 
I?  Are  not  our  relations  a  matter  between  ourselves 
alone?  Who  else  could  understand?  Who  could 
advise?  " 

"  What  you  propose  is  a  very  grave  matter." 

Again  her  secret  smile,  this  time  a  gleam  of  irony  in 
it.  "  You  do  not  wish  to  be  free  ?  " 

His  expression  showed  how  deeply  he  instantly  be 
came  alarmed.  She  smiled  openly.  "  Don't  pretend  to 
yourself  that  you  are  concerned  about  my  interests," 
she  said ;  "  frankness  to-day — please." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  realize  what  you  are  doing," 
he  felt  compelled  to  insist.  "  And  that  is  honest." 

"  You  don't  understand  me.  You  never  did.  You 
never  could,  so  long  as  I  am  your  wife.  That's  the 
way  it  is  in  marriage — if  people  begin  wrong,  as  we 
did.  But,  at  least,  believe  me  when  I  say  I've  thought 
it  all  out — in  these  years  of  long,  long  days  and  weeks 
and  months  when  I've  had  no  business  to  distract  me." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "  We  have  never  been 
of  the  slightest  use  to  each  other.  We  are  utterly  out 
of  sympathy — like  strangers." 

"  Worse,"  she  replied.  "  Strangers  may  come  to 
gether,  but  not  the  husband  and  wife  whose  interest  in 

8 


A    MATRIMONIAL   MISTAKE 

each  other  has  been  killed."  She  gazed  long  out  over 
the  lake  toward  the  mist-veiled  Wabash  range  before 
adding,  almost  under  her  breath,  "  Or  never  was  born." 

"  I  have  a  naturally  expansive  temperament,"  he 
went  on,  as  if  in  her  train  of  thought.  "  I  need  friend 
ship,  affection.  You  are  by  nature  reserved  and  cold." 

She  smiled  enigmatically.  "  I  doubt  if  you  know 
me  well  enough  to  judge." 

"  At  least,  you've  been  cold  and  reserved  with  me — 
always,  from  the  very  beginning." 

"  It  would  be  a  strange  sort  of  woman,  don't  you 
think,  who  would  not  be  chilled  by  a  man  who  regarded 
everyone  as  a  mere  rung  in  his  ladder — first  for  the 
hand,  then  for  the  foot?  Oh,  I'm  not  criticising.  I  un 
derstand  and  accept  many  things  I  was  once  foolishly 
sensitive  about.  I  see  your  point  of  view.  You  feel 
you  must  get  rid  of  whatever  interferes  with  your  de 
velopment.  And  you  are  right.  We  must  be  true  to 
ourselves.  Worn-out  clothes,  worn-out  friends,  worn- 
out  ties  of  every  kind — all  must  go  to  the  rag  bag — 
relentlessly." 

He  did  not  like  it  that  she  said  these  things  so 
placidly  and  without  the  least  bitterness.  He  admitted 
they  were  true;  but  her  wisdom  jarred  upon  him  as 
"  unwomanly,"  as  further  proof  of  the  essential  cold 
ness  of  her  nature ;  he  would  have  accepted  as  natural 
and  proper  the  most  unreasonable  and  most  intemperate 
reproaches  and  denunciations.  He  hardened  his  heart 
and  returned  to  the  main  question.  "  Then  you  really 
wish  to  be  free?  "  He  liked  to  utter  that  last  word,  to 
drink  in  the  clarion  sound  of  it. 

"  That  has  been  settled,"  she  replied.  "  We  are 
free." 

"  But  there  are  many  details 

2  9 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  For  the  lawyers.  We  need  not  discuss  them. 
Besides,  they  are  few  and  simple.  I  give  you  your 
freedom ;  I  receive  mine — and  that  is  all.  I  shall  take 
my  own  name.  And  we  can  both  begin  again." 

He  was  looking  at  her  now ;  for  the  first  time  in  their 
acquaintance  he  was  beginning  to  wonder  whether  he 
had  not  been  mistaken  in  assigning  her  to  that  back 
ground  of  neutral-colored  masses  against  which  the 
few  with  positive  personalities  play  the  drama  of  life. 
As  he  sat  silent,  confused,  she  still  further  amazed  him 
by  rising  and  extending  her  hand.  "  Good-by,"  she 
said.  "  You'll  take  the  four-fifty  train  back  to 
Chicago?" 

It  seemed  to  him  they  were  not  parting  as  should 
two  who  had  been  so  long  and,  in  a  sense,  so  intimately, 
each  in  the  other's  life  and  thought.  Yet,  what  was 
there  to  be  said  or  done?  He  rose,  hesitated,  awk 
wardly  touched  her  insistent  hand,  reluctantly  released 
it.  "  Good-by,"  he  stammered.  He  had  an  uncom 
fortable  sense  of  being  dismissed — and  who  likes  sum 
marily  to  be  dismissed,  even  by  one  of  whose  company 
he  is  least  glad? 

Suddenly,  upon  a  wave  of  color  the  beauty  that 
nature  had  all  but  given  her,  swept,  triumphant  and 
glorious,  into  her  face,  into  her  figure.  It  was  as 
startling,  as  vivid,  as  dazzling  as  the  fair,  far-stretch 
ing  landscape  the  lightning  flash  conjures  upon  the 
black  curtain  of  night.  While  he  was  staring  in  dazed 
amazement,  the  apparition  vanished  with  the  wave  of 
emotion  that  had  brought  it  into  view. 

Before  he  could  decide  whether  he  had  seen  or  had 
only  imagined,  she  was  gone,  was  making  her  way  up 
the  path  alone.  A  sudden  melancholy  shadowed  him — 
the  melancholy  of  the  closed  chapter,  of  the  thing  that 

10 


A    MATRIMONIAL    MISTAKE 

has  been  and  shall  not  be  again,  forever.  But  the  ex 
hilarating  fact  of  freedom  soon  dissipated  this  thin 
shadow.  With  shoulders  erect  and  firm,  and  confident 
gait  he  strode  toward  the  station,  his  mind  gone  ahead 
of  him  to  Chicago,  to  New  York,  to  his  future,  his 
career,  his  conquest  of  power.  An  hour  after  his  train 
left  Battle  Field,  Neva  Carlin  was  to  Horace  Armstrong 
simply  a  memory,  a  filed  document  to  be  left  undis 
turbed  under  its  mantle  of  dust. 


11 


II 

A  FEAST   AND  A    FIASCO 

"THERE'LL  be  about  six  hundred  of  us,"  Fosdick 
had  said.  "  Do  your  best,  and  send  in  the  bill." 

And  the  best  it  certainly  was,  even  for  New  York 
with  its  profuse  ideas  as  to  dispensing  the  rivers  of 
other  people's  money  that  flood  in  upon  it  from  the 
whole  country.  The  big  banquet  hall  was  walled  with 
flowers;  there  were  great  towering  palms  rising  from 
among  the  tables  and  so  close  together  that  their  leaves 
intermingled  in  a  roof.  Each  table  was  an  attempt  at  a 
work  of  art;  the  table  of  honor  was  strewn  and  fes 
tooned  with  orchids  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  apiece ;  there 
was  music,  of  course,  and  it  the  costliest ;  there  were 
souvenirs — they  alone  absorbed  upward  of  ten  thousand 
dollars.  As  for  the  dinner  itself,  the  markets  of  the 
East  and  the  South  and  of  the  Pacific  Coast  had  been 
searched;  the  fish  had  come  from  France;  the  fruit 
from  English  hothouses ;  four  kinds  of  wine,  but  those 
who  preferred  it  could  have  champagne  straight 
through.  The  cigars  cost  a  dollar  apiece,  the  bouton- 
nieres  another  dollar,  the  cigarettes  were  as  expensive 
as  are  the  cigars  of  many  men  who  are  particular  as  to 
their  tobacco.  Lucullus  may  have  spent  more  on  some 
of  his  banquets,  but  he  could  have  got  no  such  results. 
In  fact,  it  was  a  "  seventy-five  a  plate  "  dinner,  though 
Fosdick  was  not  boasting  it,  as  he  would  have  liked ;  he 

12 


A    FEAST   AND   A    FIASCO 

was  mindful  of  the  recent  exposures  of  the  prodigality 
of  managers  of  corporations  with  the  investments  of 
"  the  widow  and  the  orphan  and  the  thrifty  poor." 

Fosdick,  presiding,  with  Shotwell  on  his  right  and 
Armstrong  on  his  left,  swelled  with  pride  in  his  own 
generosity  and  taste  as  he  gazed  round.  True,  the 
O.  A.  D.  was  to  pay  the  bill ;  true,  he  had  known  nothing 
about  the  arrangements  for  the  banquet  until  he  came 
to  preside  at  it.  But  was  he  not  the  enchanter  who 
evoked  it  all?  He  hadn't  a  doubt  that  his  was  the 
glory,  all  the  glory — just  as,  when  he  bought  for  a 
large  sum  a  picture  with  a  famous  name  to  it,  he  showed 
himself  to  be  greater  than  the  painter.  He  prided 
himself  upon  his  good  taste — did  he  not  select  the  man 
who  selected  the  costly  things  for  him ;  did  he  not  sign 
the  checks?  But  most  of  all  he  prided  himself  on  his 
big  heart.  He  loved  to  give — to  his  children,  to  his 
friends,  to  servants — not  high  wages  indeed,  for  that 
would  have  been  bad  business,  but  tips  and  presents 
which  made  a  dazzling  showing  and  flooded  his  heart 
with  the  warm  milk  of  human  kindness,  whereas  a  small 
increase  of  wages  would  be  insignificant,  without  pleas 
urable  sensation,  and  a  permanent  drain.  Of  all  the 
men  who  devote  their  lives  to  what  some  people  call 
finance — and  others  call  reaping  where  another  has 
sown — he  was  the  most  generous.  "  A  great,  big,  beat 
ing  human  heart,"  was  what  you  heard  about  Fosdick 
everywhere.  "  A  hard,  wily  fighter  in  finance,  but  a 
man  full  of  red  blood,  for  all  that." 

Having  surveyed  the  magic  scene  his  necromancy 
and  his  generosity  had  created,  he  shifted  his  glance 
patronizingly  to  the  man  at  his  right — the  man  for 
whom  he  had  done  this  generous  act,  the  retiring  presi 
dent  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  to  whom  this  dinner  was  a  testi- 

13 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

monial.  As  Fosdick  looked  at  Shotwell,  his  face  dark 
ened.  "  The  damned  old  ingrate,"  he  muttered.  "  He 
doesn't  appreciate  what  I've  done  for  him."  And  there 
was  no  denying  it.  The  old  man  was  looking  a  sickly, 
forlorn  seventy-five,  at  least,  though  he  was  only  sixty- 
five,  only  two  years  older  than  Fosdick.  He  was 
humped  down  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  his  big  flat  chin  on  his 
crushed  shirt  bosom,  his  feeble,  age-mottled  hand  fum 
bling  with  his  napkin,  with  his  wineglass,  with  the 
knives,  forks,  and  spoons. 

"  The  boys  are  giving  you  a  great  send  off,"  said 
Fosdick.  As  Shotwell  knew  who  alone  was  responsible 
for  the  "  magnificent  and  touching  testimonial,"  Fos 
dick  risked  nothing  in  this  modesty. 

Shotwell,  startled,  wiped  his  mouth  with  his  napkin. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said ;  "  it's  very  nice." 

Nice !  And  if  Fosdick  had  chosen  he  could  have 
had  Shotwell  flung  down  and  out  in  disgrace  from  the 
exalted  presidency  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  instead  of  retiring 
him  thus  gloriously.  Nice !  Fosdick  almost  wished  he 
had — almost.  He  would  have  quite  wished  it,  if  retir 
ing  Shotwell  in  disgrace  would  not  have  injured  the 
great  company,  so  absolutely  dependent  upon  popular 
confidence.  Nice !  Fosdick  turned  away  in  disgust.  He 
remembered  how,  when  he  had  closed  his  trap  upon 
Shotwell — a  superb  stroke  of  business,  that ! — not  a  soul 
had  suspected  until  the  jaws  snapped  and  the  O.  A.  D. 
was  his — he  remembered  how  Shotwell  had  met  his 
demand  for  immediate  resignation  or  immediate  dis 
grace,  with  shrieks  of  hate  and  cursing.  "  I  suppose 
he  can't  get  over  it,"  reflected  Fosdick.  "  Men  blind 
themselves  completely  to  the  truth  where  vanity  and 
self-interest  are  concerned.  He  probably  still  hates 
me,  and  can't  see  that  I  was  foolishly  generous  with 

14 


A    FEAST   AND    A    FIASCO 

him.  Where's  there  another  man  in  the  financial  dis 
trict  who'd  have  allowed  him  a  pension  of  half  his  salary 
for  life?" 

But  such  thoughts  as  these  in  this  hour  for  expan 
sion  and  good  will  marred  his  enjoyment.  Fosdick 
turned  to  the  man  at  his  left,  to  young  Armstrong, 
whom  he  was  generously  lifting  to  the  lofty  seat  from 
which  he  had  so  forbearingly  ejected  the  man  at  his 
right.  Armstrong — a  huge,  big  fellow  with  one  of 
those  large  heads  which  show  unmistakably  that  they 
are  of  the  rare  kind  of  large  head  that  holds  a  large 
brain — was  as  abstracted  as  Shotwell.  The  food,  the 
wine  before  him,  were  untouched.  He  was  staring  into 
his  plate,  with  now  and  then  a  pull  at  his  cropped,  fair 
mustache  or  a  passing  of  his  large,  ruddy,  well-shaped 
hand  over  his  fine  brow.  "  What's  the  matter,  Hor 
ace?  "  said  Fosdick;  "  chewing  over  the  speech?  " 

Armstrong  straightened  himself  with  a  smile  that 
gave  his  face  instantly  the  look  of  frankness  and  of 
high,  dauntless  spirit.  "  No,  I've  got  that  down — and 
mighty  short  it  is,"  said  he ;  "  the  fewer  words  I  say 
now,  the  fewer  there'll  be  to  rise  up  and  mock  me,  if  I 
fail." 

"  Fail !  Pooh !  Nonsense !  Cheer  up !  "  cried  Fos 
dick.  "  It's  a  big  job  for  a  young  fellow,  but  you're 
bound  to  win.  You've  got  me  behind  you." 

Armstrong  looked  uncomfortable  rather  than  re 
lieved.  "  They've  elected  me  president,"  said  he,  and 
his  quiet  tone  had  the  energy  of  an  inflexible  will.  "  I 
intend  to  be  president.  No  one  can  save  me  if  I  haven't 
it  in  me  to  win  out." 

Fosdick  frowned,  and  pursed  his  lips  until  his  harsh 
gray  mustache  bristled.  "  Symptoms  of  swollen  head 
already,"  was  his  irritated  inward  comment.  "  He's 

15 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

been  in  the  job  forty-eight  hours,  and  he's  ready  to 
forget  who  made  him.  But  I'll  soon  remind  him  that  I 
could  put  him  where  I  got  him — and  further  down, 
damn  him !  " 

"  Some  one  is  signaling  you  from  the  box  straight 
ahead,"  said  Armstrong.  "  I  think  it's  your  daugh 
ter." 

As  the  young  woman  was  plainly  visible  and  as 
Armstrong  knew  her  well,  this  caution  of  statement 
could  not  have  been  quite  sincere.  But  Fosdick  did 
not  note  it ;  he  was  bowing  and  smiling  at  the  occu 
pants  of  that  most  conspicuous  box.  At  the  table  of 
honor  to  the  right  and  left  of  him  were  the  directors  of 
the  O.  A.  D.,  the  most  representative  of  the  leading 
citizens  of  New  York;  they  owned,  so  it  was  said,  one 
fifteenth  and  directly  controlled  about  one  half  of  the 
entire  wealth  of  the  country ;  not  a  blade  was  harvested, 
not  a  wheel  was  turned,  not  a  pound  of  freight  was 
lifted  from  Maine  to  the  Pacific  but  that  they  directly 
or  indirectly  got  a  "  rake  off  " — or,  if  you  prefer,  a 
commission  for  graciously  permitting  the  work  to  be 
done.  In  the  horseshoe  of  boxes,  overlooking  the  ban 
quet,  were  the  families  of  these  high  mightinesses,  the 
wives  and  daughters  and  sons  who  gave  the  mightiness 
outward  and  visible  expression  in  gorgeous  display  and 
in  painstaking  reproduction  of  the  faded  old  aristocra 
cies  of  birth  beyond  the  Atlantic. 

Fosdick  had  insisted  on  this  demonstration  because 
the  banquet  was  to  be  not  only  a  testimonial  to  Shot- 
well,  but  also  a  formal  installation  of  himself  and  his 
daughter  and  son  in  the  high  society  of  the  plutocracy. 
Fosdick  had  long  had  power  downtown ;  but  he  had 
lacked  respectability.  Not  that  his  reputation  was  not 
good;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  spotless — as  honest  as 

16 


A    FEAST   AND    A    FIASCO 

generous,  as  honorable  as  honest.  Respectability, 
however,  has  nothing  to  do  with  honesty,  whether  re 
puted  or  real.  It  is  a  robe,  an  entitlement,  a  badge ;  it 
comes  from  associating  with  the  respectable,  uptown 
as  well  as  down.  Fosdick,  grasping  this  fact,  after 
twenty  years'  residence  in  New  York  in  ignorance  of  it, 
had  forthwith  resolved  to  be  respectable,  to  change  the 
dubious  social  status  of  his  family  into  a  structure  as 
firm  and  as  imposing  as  his  fortune.  His  business  associ 
ates  had  imagined  themselves  free,  uptown  at  least,  from 
his  vast  and  ever  vaster  power ;  at  one  stroke  he  showed 
them  the  fatuous  futility  of  their  social  coldness,  of 
their  carefully  drawn  line  between  doing  business  with 
him  and  being  socially  intimate  with  him,  made  it  amus 
ingly  apparent  that  their  condescensions  to  his  daugh 
ter  and  son  in  the  matter  of  occasional  invitations  were 
as  flimsily  based  as  were  their  elaborate  pretenses  of 
superior  birth  and  breeding.  He  invited  them  to  make 
a  social  function  of  this  business  dinner;  he  made  each 
recipient  of  an  invitation  personally  feel  that  it  was 
wise  to  accept,  dangerous  to  refuse.  The  hope  of  mak 
ing  money  and  the  dread  of  losing  it  have  ever  been  the 
two  all-powerful  considerations  in  an  aristocracy  of  any 
kind.  Respectability  and  fashion  "  accepted." 

So,  Fosdick,  looking  across  that  resplendent  scene, 
at  the  radiant  faces  of  his  daughter  and  son,  felt  the 
light  and  the  warmth  driving  away  the  shadows  of  Shot- 
well's  ingratitude  and  Armstrong's  lack  of  deference. 
But  just  as  he  was  expanding  to  the  full  girth  of  his 
big  heart,  he  chilled  and  shrunk  again.  There,  beside 
his  daughter,  sat  old  Shotwell's  wife.  She  was  as  cold 
as  so  much  marble ;  the  diamonds  on  her  great  white 
shoulders  and  bosom  seemed  to  give  off  a  chill  from 
their  light.  She  was  there,  it  is  true;  but  like  a  de- 

17 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

throned  queen  in  the  triumphal  procession  of  an  upstart 
conqueror.  She  was  a  rebuke,  a  damper,  a  spoiler  of 
the  feast.  She  never  had  cared  for  old  Shotwell;  she 
had  married  him  because  he  was  the  best  available  catch 
and  could  give  her  everything  she  wanted,  everything 
she  could  conceive  a  woman's  wanting.  She  had  toler 
ated  him  as  one  of  the  disagreeable  but  necessary  inci 
dents  of  the  journey  of  life.  But  Shotwell's  downfall 
was  hers,  was  their  children's.  It  meant  a  lower  rank 
in  the  social  hierarchy ;  it  meant  that  she  and  hers  must 
bow  before  this  "  nobody  from  nowhere  "  and  his  chil 
dren.  She  sat  there,  beside  Amy,  in  front  of  Hugo, 
the  embodiment  of  icy  hate. 

"  This  damn  dinner  is  entirely  too  long,"  muttered 
Fosdick,  though  he  did  not  directly  connect  his  dissatis 
faction  with  the  cold  stare  from  Shotwell's  wife. 

But  Mrs.  Shotwell  was  not  interfering  with  the  en 
joyment  of  Amy  and  Hugo. 

If  Fosdick  had  planned  with  an  inquisitor's  cun 
ning  to  put  her  to  the  most  exquisite  torture,  he  could 
not  have  been  more  successful.  From  his  box  she  had 
the  best  possible  view  of  the  whole  scene;  and,  while 
Shotwell  had  told  her  only  the  smallest  part  of  the  truth 
about  his  "  resignation,"  she  had  read  the  newspaper 
reports  of  the  investigation  of  the  O.  A.  D.  which  had 
preceded  his  downfall,  and,  though  that  investigation 
had  changed  from  an  attack  on  him  to  an  exoneration, 
after  he  yielded  to  Fosdick,  she  had  guessed  enough  of 
the  truth  to  know  that  this  "  testimonial  "  to  him  was 
in  fact  a  testimonial  to  Fosdick. 

Hugo  and  Amy,  the  children  of  a  rich  man  and  un 
married,  had  long  been  popular  with  all  the  women  who 
had  unmarried  sons  and  daughters;  this  evening  they 
roused  enthusiasm.  Everybody  who  hoped  to  make,  or 

18 


A    FEAST  AND   A    FIASCO 

feared  to  lose,  money  was  impressed  by  their  charms. 
Amy,  who  was  pretty,  was  declared  beautiful ;  Hugo, 
who  looked  as  if  he  had  brains,  though  in  fact  he  had 
not,  was  pronounced  a  marvel  of  serious  intellectuality. 
The  young  men  flocked  round  Amy ;  Hugo's  tour  of  the 
boxes  was  an  ovation.  To  an  observant  outsider,  look 
ing  beneath  surfaces  to  realities,  the  scene  would  have 
been  ludicrous  and  pitiful ;  to  those  taking  part,  it 
seemed  elegant,  kindly,  charming.  Mrs.  Shotwell  was 
almost  at  the  viewpoint  of  the  outsider — not  the 
philosopher,  but  he  who  stands  hungry  and  thirsty  in 
the  cold  and  glowers  through  the  window  at  the 
revelers  and  denounces  them  for  their  selfish  gluttony. 
And  by  the  way  of  chagrin  and  envy  she  reached  the 
philosopher's  conclusion.  "  How  coarse  and  low !  "  she 
thought.  "  New  York  gets  more  vulgar  every  year." 

Amy,  accustomed  all  her  life  to  have  anything  and 
everything  she  wanted,  had  been  dissatisfied  about  the 
family's  social  position  and  eager  to  improve  it;  but 
the  instant  she  realized  they  were  at  last  "  in  the  push," 
securely  there,  she  began  to  lose  interest ;  after  an  hour 
of  the  new  adulation,  she  had  enough,  was  looking  im 
patiently  round  for  something  else  to  want  and  to 
strive  for. 

Not  so  Hugo.  Society  had  seemed  a  serious  matter 
to  him  from  his  earliest  days  at  college,  when  he  began 
to  try  to  get  into  the  fashionable  fraternities,  and 
failed.  He  had  been  invited  wherever  any  marriageable 
girls  were  on  exhibition ;  but  he  had  noted,  and  had 
taken  it  quickly  to  heart,  that  he  was  not  often  invited 
when  such  offerings  were  not  being  made.  He  had 
gone  heavily  into  a  flirtation  with  a  young  married 
woman,  as  dull  as  himself.  It  was  in  vain ;  she  had  in 
vited  him,  but  her  friends  had  not,  unless  she  was  to  be 

19 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

there  to  take  care  of  him.  He  had  attributed  this  in 
part  to  his  father,  in  part  to  his  married  sister — his 
father,  who  made  occasional  slips  in  grammar  and  was 
boisterous  and  dictatorial  in  conversation ;  his  sister, 
whose  husband  kept  a  big  retail  furniture  store  and 
"  looks  the  counter-jumper  that  he  is,"  Hugo  often 
said  to  Amy  in  their  daily  discussions  of  their  social 
woes.  Now,  all  this  worriment  was  over;  Hugo,  tour 
ing  the  boxes,  felt  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  ambi 
tion.  And  it  seemed  to  him  he  had  himself  brought 
it  about — his  diplomatic  assiduity  in  cultivating  "  the 
right  people,"  the  steady,  if  gradual,  permeation  of  his 
physical  and  mental  charms. 

Amy  sent  a  note  down  to  Armstrong,  asking  him  to 
come  to  the  box  a  moment.  As  he  entered,  Hugo  was 
just  leaving  on  another  excursion  for  further  whiffs  of 
the  incense  that  was  making  him  visibly  as  drunk,  if  in 
a  slightly  different  way,  as  the  younger  and  obscurer 
members  of  the  staff  of  the  O.  A.  D.  downstairs.  At 
sight  of  Armstrong  he  put  out  his  hand  graciously  and 
said :  "  Ah — Horace — howdy  ?  "  in  a  tone  that  made 
it  difficult  for  Armstrong  to  refrain  from  laughing  in 
his  face. 

"  All  right,  Hugo,"  said  he. 

Hugo  frowned.  For  him  to  address  one  of  his 
father's  employees  by  his  first  name  was  natural  and 
proper  and  a  mark  of  distinguished  favor ;  for  one  of 
those  employees  to  retort  in  kind  was  a  gross  imperti 
nence.  He  did  not  see  just  how  to  show  his  indigna 
tion,  just  how  to  set  the  impudent  employee  back  in  his 
place.  He  put  the  problem  aside  for  further  thought, 
and  brushed  haughtily  by  Armstrong,  who,  however, 
had  already  forgotten  him. 

"Just  let  Mr.  Armstrong  sit  there,  won't  you?" 
20 


A    FEAST   AND    A    FIASCO 

said  Amy  to  the  young  man  in  the  seat  immediately  be 
hind  hers. 

The  young  man  flushed ;  she  had  cut  him  off  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence  which  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
climax  of  what  he  thought  a  most  amusing  story.  He 
gave  place  to  Armstrong,  hating  him,  since  hatred  of 
an  heiress  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  so  particularly  to  see  me 
about?  "  Armstrong  said  to  her. 

She  smiled  with  radiant  coquetry.  "  Nothing  at 
all,"  she  replied.  "  I  put  that  in  the  note  simply  to 
make  sure  you'd  come." 

Armstrong  laughed.  "  You're  a  spoiled  one,"  said 
he.  And  he  got  up,  nodded  f  riendlily  to  her,  bowed  to 
her  Arctic  chaperon  and  departed,  she  so  astonished 
that  she  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  to  detain  him. 

Her  first  impulse  was  rage — that  she  should  be 
treated  thus !  she  whom  everybody  treated  with  consid 
eration  !  Then,  her  vanity,  readiest  and  most  tactful 
of  courtiers,  suggested  that  he  had  done  it  to  pique  her, 
to  make  himself  more  attractive  in  her  eyes.  That 
mollified  her,  soon  had  her  in  good  humor  again.  Yes, 
he  was  as  much  part  of  her  court  as  the  others ;  only, 
being  shrewder,  he  pursued  a  different  method.  "  And 
he's  got  a  right  to  hold  himself  dear,"  she  said  to  her 
self,  as  she  watched  him  making  his  way  to  his  seat  at 
the  table  of  honor.  Certainly  he  did  look  as  if  he  be 
longed  at  or  near  the  head  of  the  head  table. 

Soon  her  father  was  standing,  was  rapping  for  or 
der.  Handsome  and  distinguished,  with  his  keen  face 
and  tall  lean  figure,  his  iron-gray  hair  and  mustache,  he 
spoke  out  like  one  who  has  something  to  say  and  will  be 
heard : 

"  Gentlemen    and    ladies !  "    he    began.     "  We    are 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

gathered  here  to-night  to  do  honor  to  one  of  the  men  of 
our  time  and  country.  His  name  is  a  household  word." 
(Applause.)  "For  forty  years  he  has  made  comfort 
able  an  ever  increasing  number  of  deathbeds,  has  stood 
between  the  orphan  and  the  pangs  of  want,  has  given 
happy  old  age  to  countless  thousands."  (Applause. 
Cries  of  "Good!  Good!")  "Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
we  honor  ourselves  in  honoring  this  noble  character. 
Speaking  for  the  directors,  of  whom  I  am  one  of  the 
oldest — in  point  of  service" — (Laughter.  Applause.) 
— "  speaking  for  the  directors,  I  say,  in  all  sincerity,  it 
is  with  the  profoundest  regret  that  we  permit  him  to 
partially  sever  his  official  connection  with  the  great  in 
stitution  he  founded  and  has  been  so  largely  instru 
mental  in  building  up  to  its  present  magnificent  posi 
tion.  We  would  fain  have  him  stay  on  where  his  name 
is  a  guarantee  of  honesty,  security  and  success." 
(Cheers.)  "  But  he  has  insisted  that  he  must  transfer 
the  great  burden  to  younger  shoulders.  He  has  earned 
the  right  to  repose,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  We  cannot 
deny  him  what  he  has  earned.  But  he  leaves  us  his 
spirit."  (Wild  applause.)  "Wherever  the  O.  A.  D. 
is  known — and  where  is  it  not  known?  "  (Cheers  and 
loud  rattling  of  metal  upon  glass  and  china.) —  "  there 
his  name  is  written  high  as  an  inspiration  to  the  young. 
He  has  been  faithful;  he  has  been  honest;  he  has 
been  diligent.  By  these  virtues  he  has  triumphed." 
(Cheers.)  "  His  triumph,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  an  in 
spiration  to  us  all."  (Cheers.  Cries  of  "  Whoope-ee  " 
from  several  drunken  men  at  the  far  tables.) 

"  Let  us  rise,  gentlemen,  and  drink  to  our  honored, 
our  honorable  chief !  " 

The  banqueters  sprang  to  their  feet,  lifting  their 
glasses  high.  Old  Shotwell,  his  face  like  wax,  rose 


A    FEAST   AND   A    FIASCO 

feebly,  stared  into  vacancy,  passed  one  tremulous  hand 
over  the  big,  flat,  weak  chin,  sunk  into  his  chair  again. 
Some  one  shouted,  "  Three  cheers  for  Shotwell !  "  Floor 
and  boxes  stood  and  cheered,  with  much  waving  of  nap 
kins  and  handkerchiefs  and  clinking  of  glasses.  It  was 
a  thrilling  scene,  the  exuberant  homage  of  affairs  to 
virtue. 

"  I  see,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  my  poor  words 
have  been  in  the  direction  of  your  thoughts,"  continued 
Fosdick.  "  And  now  devolves  upon  me  the  pleasant 
duty  of " 

Here  a  beflowered  hand  truck,  bearing  a  large  rose 
wood  chest,  was  wheeled  in  front  of  the  table  of  honor. 
The  attendants  threw  back  the  lid  and  disclosed  a  won 
derful  service  of  solid  gold  plate.  This  apparition  of 
the  god  in  visible,  tangible  form  caused  hysterical  ex 
citement — cheers,  shouts,  frantic  cranings  and  wavings 
from  floor  and  gallery. 

"  — The  pleasant  duty  of  presenting  this  slight 
token  of  appreciation  from  our  staff  to  our  retiring 
president,"  ended  Fosdick  in  a  tremendous  voice  and 
with  a  vast,  magnanimous  sweep  of  the  arms. 

Old  Shotwell,  dazed,  lifted  his  chin  from  his  shirt 
bosom,  stared  stupidly  at  the  chest,  rose  at  a  prod  from 
his  neighbor,  bowed,  and  sat  down  again.  Fosdick 
seated  himself,  nudged  him  under  the  table,  whispered 
hoarsely  under  cover  of  his  mustache,  "  Get  up.  Get 
up !  Here's  the  time  for  your  speech." 

The  old  man  fumbled  in  his  breast  pocket,  drew  out 
a  manuscript,  rose  uncertainly.  As  he  got  on  his  feet, 
the  manuscript  dropped  to  the  floor.  Armstrong  saw, 
moved  around  between  Shotwell  and  his  neighbor,  picked 
up  the  manuscript,  opened  it,  laid  it  on  the  table  at 
ShotwelPs  hand.  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  quavered 

23 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

Shotwell,  in  a  weak  voice  and  with  an  ashen  face,  "  I 
thank  you.  I — I — thank  you." 

The  diners  rose  again.  "  Three  cheers  for  the  old 
chief !  "  was  the  cry,  and  out  they  rang.  Tears  were 
in  Shotwell's  eyes ;  tears  were  rolling  down  Fosdick's 
cheeks ;  some  of  the  drunken  were  sobbing.  As  they 
sang,  "  For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow,"  Fosdick's  great 
voice  leading  and  his  arm  linked  in  Shotwell's,  Arm 
strong  happened  to  glance  down  at  the  manuscript. 
The  opening  sentence  caught  his  eye — "  Fellow  builders 
of  the  Mutual  Association  Against  Old  Age  and  Death, 
I  come  here  to  expose  to  you  the  infamous  conspiracy 
of  which  I  have  been  the  victim."  Before  Armstrong 
could  stop  himself,  he  had  been  fascinated  into  reading 
the  second  sentence :  "  /  purpose  to  expose  to  you, 
without  sparing  myself,  how  Josiah  Fosdick  has  seized 
the  0.  A.  D.  to  gamble  with  its  assets,  using  his  un 
scrupulous  henchman,  Horace  Armstrong,  as  a  blind.'9 

Armstrong,  white  as  his  shirt,  folded  the  manuscript 
and  held  it  in  the  grip  a  man  gives  that  which  is  be 
tween  him  and  destruction.  The  singing  finished,  all 
sat  down  again,  Shotwell  with  the  rest.  Had  his  mind 
given  way,  or  his  will?  Armstrong  could  not  tell;  cer 
tain  it  was,  however,  that  he  had  abandoned  the  inten 
tion  of  changing  the  banquet  into  about  the  most  sen 
sational  tragedy  that  had  ever  shaken  and  torn  the 
business  world.  Armstrong  put  the  manuscript  in  his 
pocket.  "  I'll  mail  it  to  him,"  he  said  to  himself. 

But  now  Josiah  was  up  again,  was  calling  for  a 
"  few  words  from  my  eminent  young  friend,  whom  the 
directors  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  in  the  wise  discharge  of  the 
trust  imposed  upon  them  by  three  quarters  of  a  mil 
lion  policy  holders,  have  elected  to  the  presidency.  His 
shoulders  are  young,  gentlemen,  but  " — here  he  laid  his 


A    FEAST   AND    A    FIASCO 

hand  affectionately  upon  Armstrong — "  as  you  can  see 
for  yourselves,  they  are  broad  and  strong."  He 
beamed  benevolently  down  upon  Armstrong's  thick, 
fair  hair.  "  Young  man,  we  want  to  hear  your  pledge 
for  your  stewardship." 

Horace  Armstrong,  unnerved  by  the  narrowly 
averted  catastrophe,  drew  several  deep  breaths  before 
he  found  voice.  He  glanced  along  first  one  line, 
then  the  other,  of  the  eminent  and  most  respectable 
directors,  these  men  of  much  and  dubious  wealth  which 
yet  somehow  made  them  the  uttermost  reverse  of 
dubious,  made  them  the  bulwarks  of  character  and  law 
and  property — of  all  they  had  trodden  under  foot  to 
achieve  "  success."  Then  he  gazed  out  upon  the  men 
who  were  to  take  orders  from  him  henceforth,  the  super 
intendents,  agents,  officials  of  the  O.  A.  D.  "  My 
friends,"  said  he,  "  we  have  charge  of  a  great  institu 
tion.  With  God's  help  we  will  make  it  greater,  the 
greatest.  It  has  been  one  of  the  mainstays  of  the 
American  home,  the  American  family.  It  shall  re 
main  so,  if  I  have  your  cooperation  and  support." 

And  he  abruptly  resumed  his  seat.  There  were 
cheers,  but  not  loud  or  hearty.  His  manner  had  been 
nervous,  his  voice  uncertain,  unconvincing.  But  for 
his  presence — that  big  frame,  those  powerful  fea 
tures — he  would  have  made  a  distinctly  bad  impression. 
As  he  sat,  conscious  of  failure  but  content  because  he 
had  got  through  coherently,  old  Shotwell  began  fum 
bling  and  muttering,  "  My  speech !  Where's  my 
speech!  I've  lost  it.  Somebody  might  find  it.  If 
the  newspapers  should  get  it " 

But  the  dinner  was  over.  The  boxes  were  empty 
ing,  the  intoxicated  were  being  helped  out  by  their 
friends,  the  directors  were  looking  uneasily  at  Fosdick 
3  25 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

for  permission  to  join  their  departing  families.  Fos- 
dick  took  Shotwell  firmly  by  the  arm  and  escorted  him, 
still  mumbling,  to  the  carriage  entrance,  there  turning 
him  over  to  Mrs.  Shotwell. 

"  He's  very  precious  to  us  all,  madam,"  said  Fos- 
dick,  indifferent  to  her  almost  sneering  coldness,  and 
giving  the  old  man  a  patronizing  clap  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Take  good  care  of  him."  To  himself  he  added,  "  I'll 
warrant  she  will,  with  that  pension  his  for  his  lifetime 
only." 

And  he  went  home,  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  a  good  man 
at  the  end  of  a  good  day. 


Ill 


LETTY  MORRIS — "  Mrs.  Joe  " — was  late  for  her 
Bohemian  lunch.  She  called  it  Bohemian  because  she 
had  asked  a  painter,  a  piano  player  and  an  actress, 
and  was  giving  it  in  the  restaurant  of  a  studio  build 
ing.  As  her  auto  rolled  up  to  the  curb,  she  saw  at  the 
entrance,  just  going  away,  a  woman  of  whom  her  first 
thought  was  "  What  strange,  fascinating  eyes !  "  then, 
"  Why,  it's  only  Cousin  Neva " ;  for,  like  most  New 
Yorkers,  she  was  exceedingly  wary  of  out-of-town 
people,  looking  on  them,  with  nothing  to  offer,  as  a 
waste  of  time  and  money.  As  it  was,  on  one  of  those 
friendly  impulses  that  are  responsible  for  so  much  of  the 
good,  and  so  much  of  the  evil,  in  this  world,  she  cried, 
"  Why,  Genevieve  Carlin  !  What  are  you  doing  here?  " 
And  she  descended  from  her  auto  and  rushed  up  to 
Neva. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Letty?  "  said  Neva  distantly.  She 
had  startled,  had  distinctly  winced,  at  the  sound  of 
those  affected  accents  and  tones  which  the  fashionable 
governesses  and  schools  are  rapidly  making  the  natural 
language  of  "  our  set  "  and  its  fringes. 

"  Why  haven't  you  let  me  know  ?  "  she  reproached. 
As  the  words  left  her  lips,  up  rose  within  herself  an 
answer  which  she  instantly  assumed  was  the  answer. 
The  divorce,  of  course!  She  flushed  with  annoyance 

27 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

at  her  tactlessness.  Her  first  sensation  in  thinking  of 
divorce  was  always  that  it  was  scandalous,  disgraceful, 
immoral,  a  stain  upon  the  woman  and  her  family ;  but 
quick  upon  that  feeling,  lingering  remnant  of  dis 
carded  childhood  training,  always  came  the  recollection 
that  divorce  was  no  longer  unfashionable,  was  therefore 
no  longer  either  immoral  or  disgraceful,  was  scandalous 
in  a  delightful,  aristocratic  way.  "  But,"  reflected 
she,  "  probably  Neva  still  feels  about  that  sort  of  thing 
as  we  all  used  to  feel — at  least,  all  the  best  people." 
She  was  confirmed  in  this  view  by  her  cousin's  embar 
rassed  expression.  She  hastened  to  her  relief  with 
"  Joe  and  I  talk  of  you  often.  Only  the  other  day  I 
started  a  note  to  you,  asking  you  when  you  could 
visit  us." 

She  did  not  believe,  when  Neva  told  the  literal  truth 
in  replying :  "  I  came  to  work.  I  thought  I  wouldn't 
disturb  you." 

"Disturb!"  cried  Mrs.  Morris.  "You  are  so 
queer.  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"  Several  weeks.  I — I've  an  apartment  in  this 
house." 

"  How  delightful !  "  exclaimed  Letty  absently.  She 
was  herself  again  and  was  thinking  rapidly.  A  new 
man,  even  from  "  the  provinces,"  might  be  fitted  in  to 
advantage ;  but  what  could  she  do  with  another  woman, 
one  more  where  there  were  already  too  many  for  the 
men  available  for  idling? 

"  You  must  let  me  see  something  of  you,"  said  she, 
calmer  but  still  cordial.  "  You  must  come  to  dinner — 
Saturday  night."  That  was  Letty  Morris's  resting 
night — a  brief  and  early  dinner,  early  to  bed  for  a  sleep 
that  would  check  the  ravages  of  the  New  York  season 
in  a  beauty  that  must  be  husbanded,  since  she  had 

28 


"ONLY   COUSIN  NEVA 


crossed  the  perilous  line  of  thirty.  "  Yes — Saturday 
— at  half^past  seven.  And  here's  one  of  my  cards  to 
remind  you  of  the  address.  I  must  be  going  now. 
I'm  horribly  late."  And  with  a  handshake  and  brush  of 
the  lips  on  Neva's  cheek,  the  small,  brilliant,  blonde 
cousin  was  gone. 

"  What  a  nuisance,"  she  was  saying  to  herself. 
"  Why  did  I  let  myself  be  surprised  into  attracting  her 
attention?  Now,  I'll  have  to  do  something  for  her — 
we're  really  under  obligations  to  her  father — I  don't 
believe  Joe  has  paid  back  the  last  of  that  loan  yet. 
Well,  I  can  use  her  occasionally  to  take  Joe  off  my 
hands.  She  looks  all  right — really,  it's  amazing  how 
she  has  improved  in  dress.  She  seems  to  know  how  to 
put  on  her  clothes  now.  But  she's  too  retiring  to  be 
dangerous.  A  woman  who's  presentable  yet  not  dan 
gerous  is  almost  desirable,  is  as  rare  as  an  attractive 
man." 

The  delusion  of  our  own  importance  is  all  but  uni 
versal — and  everywhere  most  happy ;  but  for  it,  would 
not  life's  cynicism  broaden  from  the  half-hidden  smirk 
into  a  disheartening  sneer?  Among  fashionable  people, 
narrow,  and  carefully  educated  only  in  class  prejudice 
and  pretentious  ignorance,  this  delusion  becomes  an 
obsession.  The  whole  hardworking,  self-absorbed  world 
is  watching  them — so  they  delight  in  imagining — is 
envying  them,  is  imitating  them.  Letty  assumed  that 
Neva  had  kept  away  through  awe,  and  that  she  would 
now  take  advantage  of  her  politeness  to  cling  to  her 
and  get  about  in  society;  as  Mrs.  Morris  thought  of 
nothing  but  society,  she  naturally  felt  that  the  whole 
world  must  be  similarly  occupied.  She  would  have  been 
astounded  could  she  have  seen  into  Neva's  mind — seen 
the  debate  going  on  there  as  to  how  to  entrench  herself 

29 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

against  annoyance  from  her  cousin.  "  Shall  I  refuse 
her  invitation  ?  "  thought  Neva.  "  Or,  is  it  better  to 
go  Saturday  night,  and  have  done  with,  since  I  must  go 
to  her  house  once?  "  She  reluctantly  decided  for  Sat 
urday  night.  "  And  after  that  I  can  plead  my  work ; 
and  soon  she'll  forget  all  about  me.  It's  ridiculous  that 
people  who  wish  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other 
should  be  forced  by  a  stupid  conventionality  to  irritate 
themselves  and  each  other." 

Saturday  afternoon,  each  debated  writing  the  other, 
postponing  the  engagement.  Neva  had  a  savage  at 
tack  of  the  blues ;  at  such  times  she  shut  herself  in,  cer 
tain  she  could  not  get  from  the  outside  the  cheer  she 
craved  and  too  keen  to  be  content  with  the  cheer  that 
would  offer  shallow,  wordy  sympathy,  or,  worse  still, 
self-complacent  pity.  As  for  Letitia,  she  was  quarrel 
ing  with  her  husband — about  money  as  usual.  She  was 
one  of  those  doll-looking  women  who  so  often  have  ser 
pentine  craft  and  wills  of  steel.  Morris  adored  her, 
after  the  habit  of  men  with  such  women ;  she  made  him 
feel  so  big  and  strong  and  intellectually  superior ;  and 
her  childish,  clinging  ways  were  intoxicating,  as  she 
had  great  physical  charm,  she  so  cool  and  smooth  and 
golden  white  and  delicately  perfumed.  She  always  got 
her  own  way  with  everyone;  usually  her  husband,  her 
"  master,"  yielded  at  the  first  onset.  Once  in  a  while — 
and  this  happened  to  be  of  those  times — he  held  out  for 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  pout  and  weep  and  then,  as 
he  yielded,  burst  into  a  radiance  like  sunshine  through 
summer  rain.  If  she  had  had  money  of  her  own  he 
might  have  got  a  sudden  and  even  shocking  insight  into 
the  internal  machinery  of  that  doll's  head;  as  it  was, 
his  delusion  about  the  relative  intelligence  and  strength 
of  himself  and  his  Letty  was  intact. 

30 


ONLY   COUSIN  NEVA 


Mrs.  Joe  did  not  share  his  enthusiasm  for  these 
"  love-tilts  " ;  she  did  not  mind  employing  the  "  doll 
game  "  in  her  dealings  with  the  world,  but  she  would 
have  liked  to  be  her  real  self  at  home.  This,  however, 
was  impossible  if  she  was  to  get  the  largest  results  in 
the  quickest  and  easiest  way.  So  she  wearily  played  on 
at  the  farce,  and  at  times  grew  heartsick  with  envy  of 
the  comparatively  few  independent — which  means  finan 
cially  independent — women  of  her  set,  and  disliked  her 
Joe  when  she  was  forced  to  think  about  him  distinctly, 
which  was  not  often.  In  marriages  where  the  spirit 
has  shriveled  and  died  within  the  letter,  habit  soon 
hardens  a  wife  to  an  amazing  degree  toward  practical 
unconsciousness  of  the  existence  of  her  husband,  even 
though  he  be  uxorious.  Letty's  married  life  bored 
her ;  but  she  had  no  more  sense  of  degradation  in  thus 
making  herself  a  pander,  and  for  hire,  than  had  her 
husband,  at  the  same  business  downtown.  She  saw  so 
many  of  the  "  very  best  "  women  doing  just  as  she  did, 
using  each  the  fittest  form  of  cajolery  and  cozening  to 
wheedle  money  for  extravagances  out  of  their  hus 
bands,  that  it  seemed  as  much  the  proper  and  reputable 
thing  as  going  to  bullfights  seems  to  Spaniards,  or 
watching  wild  beasts  devour  men,  women,  and  children 
seemed  to  the  "  very  best  "  people  of  imperial  Rome. 
For  the  same  reason,  her  husband  did  not  linger 
upon  the  real  meaning  of  the  phrase  "  legal  adviser  " 
whereunder  the  business  of  himself  and  his  brother 
lawyers  was  so  snugly  and  smugly  masked  —  the 
business  of  helping  respectable  scoundrels  glut  bestial 
appetites  for  other  people's  property  without  fear 
of  jail. 

The  quarrel  had  so  far  advanced  that   Saturday 
night  was  the  logical  time  for  the  climax  in  sentimental 

31 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 


reconciliation.  However,  Mrs.  Morris  decided  to  en 
dure  a  twenty-four  hours'  delay  and  "  get  Neva  over 
with."  She  repented  the  instant  Neva  appeared.  "  I 
had  no  idea  she  could  be  so  good  looking,"  thought  she, 
in  a  panic  at  the  prospect  of  rivalry,  with  desirable 
available  men  wofully  scarce.  She  swept  Neva  with  a 
searching,  hostile  glance.  "  She's  really  almost  beau 
tiful." 

And,  in  fact,  never  before  was  Neva  so  good  look 
ing.  Vanity  is  an  air  plant  not  at  all  dependent  upon 
roots  in  realities  for  nourishment  and  growth.  Thus, 
she,  born  with  rather  less  than  the  normal  physical  van 
ity,  had  been  unaffected  by  the  charms  she  could  not 
but  have  seen  had  she  looked  at  herself  with  vanity's 
sprightly  optimism.  Nor  was  there  any  encourage 
ment  in  the  atmosphere  of  old-fashioned  Battle  Field, 
where  the  best  people  were  still  steeped  in  medieval  dis 
dain  of  "  foolishness  "  and  regarded  the  modern  pas 
sion  for  the  joy  of  life  as  sinful.  Also,  she  was  without 
that  aggressive  instinct  to  please  by  physical  charm 
which  even  circumvents  the  regulations  of  a  chapter  of 
cloistered  nuns. 

Until  she  came  to  New  York,  she  had  given  her  per 
sonal  appearance  no  attention  whatever,  beyond  in 
stinctively  trying  to  be  as  unobtrusive  as  possible ;  and 
even  in  New  York  her  concessions  to  what  she  regarded 
as  waste  of  time  were  really  not  concessions  at  all,  were 
merely  the  result  of  exercising  in  the  most  indifferent 
fashion  her  natural  good  taste,  in  choosing  the  best 
from  New  York's  infinite  variety  as  she  had  chosen  the 
best  from  Battle  Field's  meager  and  commonplace 
stocks  of  goods  for  women.  The  dress  she  was  wear 
ing  that  evening  was  not  especially  grand,  seemed 
quakerishly  high  in  the  neck  in  comparison  with 

32 


ONLY    COUSIN    NEVA" 


Letty's ;  for  Letty  had  a  good  back  and  was  not  one  to 
conceal  a  charm  which  it  was  permissible  to  display. 
But  Neva,  in  soft  silver-gray;  with  her  hair,  bright, 
yet  neither  gold  nor  red,  but  all  the  shades  between, 
framing  her  long  oval  face  in  a  pompadour  that  merged 
gracefully  into  a  simple  knot  at  the  back  of  her  small 
head;  with  her  regular  features  shown  to  that  advan 
tage  which  regular  features  have  only  when  shoulders 
and  neck  are  bared ;  and  with  her  complexion  cleared  of 
all  sallowness  and  restored  to  its  natural  smooth  pallor 
by  the  healthful  air  and  life  of  New  York — Neva,  thus 
recreated,  was  more  than  distinguished  looking,  was 
beautiful.  "  Who'd  have  thought  it?  "  reflected  Letty 
crossly.  "  What  a  difference  clothes  do  make  1 "  But 
Neva  was  slender — "  thin,  painfully  thin,"  thought 
Mrs.  Morris,  with  swiftly  recovering  spirits.  She  her 
self  was  plump  and  therefore  thought  "  scrawniness  " 
hideous,  though  often,  to  draw  attention  to  her  rounded 
charms,  she  wailed  piteously  that  she  was  getting  "  dis 
gracefully  fat." 

Neither  of  the  men — her  husband  and  Boris  Ra 
phael,  the  painter — shared  her  poor  opinion  of  Neva 
after  the  first  glance.  Morris  did  not  care  for  thin 
women,  but  he  thought  Neva  had  a  certain  beauty — not 
the  kind  he  admired,  but  a  kind,  nevertheless.  Boris 
studied  the  young  woman  with  an  expression  that  made 
Mrs.  Joe  redden  with  jealousy.  "  You  think  my  cousin 
pretty  ?  "  said  she  to  him,  as  they  went  down  to  dinner 
far  enough  ahead  of  Neva  and  Morris  to  be  able  to  talk 
freely. 

"More  than  that,"  replied  Boris,"  "I  think  her 
unusual." 

"  If  you  ever  chance  to  see  her  in  ordinary  dress, 
you'll  change  your  mind,  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  said  Letty 

33 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

softly.     "  Poor  Neva !     Hers  is  a  sad  case.     She's  one 
of  the  ought-to-bes-but-aren'ts." 

"  It's  my  business  to  see  things  as  they  are,"  was  the 
painter's  exasperating  reply.  "  And  I'd  not  in  any 
circumstances  be  blind  to  such  a  marvelous  study  in 
long  lines  as  she." 

"  Marvelous !  "  Mrs.  Morris  laughed. 

"  Long  face,  long  neck,  long  bust,  long  waist,  long 
legs,  long  hands  and  feet,"  explained  he.  "  It's  the 
kind  of  beauty  that  has  to  be  pointed  out  to  ordinary 
eyes  before  they  see  it.  I  can  imagine  her  passing  for 
homely  in  a  rude  community,  just  as  her  expression  of 
calm  might  pass  for  coldness." 

Mrs.  Morris  revised  her  opinion  of  Boris.  She  had 
thought  him  a  most  tactful  person ;  she  knew  the  truth 
now.  A  man  who  would  praise  one  woman  to  another 
could  never  be  called  tactful ;  to  praise  enthusiastically 
was  worse  than  tactless,  it  was  boorish.  "  How  impos 
sible  it  is,"  thought  she,  "  for  a  man  of  low  origin  to 
rise  wholly  above  it."  She  said,  "  I'm  delighted  that  my 
cousin  pleases  you,"  as  coldly  as  she  could  speak  to  a 
man  after  whom  everyone  was  running. 

"  I  must  paint  her,"  he  said,  noting  Letty's  anger, 
but  indifferent  to  it.  "  If  I  succeed,  everyone  will  see 
what  I  see.  If  that  woman  were  to  love  and  be  loved, 
her  face  would  become — divine!  Divinely  human,  I 
mean — for  she's  flesh  and  blood.  The  fire's  there — 
laid  and  ready  for  the  match." 

When  he  and  Morris  were  alone  after  dinner  he 
began  on  Neva  again,  unaffected  by  her  seeming  inca 
pacity  to  respond  to  his  efforts  to  interest  her.  "  I 
could  scarcely  talk  for  watching  her,"  he  said.  "  She 
puzzles  me.  I  should  not  have  believed  a  girl — an  un 
married  woman — could  have  such  an  expression." 

34 


ONLY   COUSIN    NEVA" 


"  She's  not  a  girl,"  explained  Morris.  "  She  has 
taken  her  maiden  name  again.  She  was  Mrs.  Arm 
strong — was  married  until  last  summer  to  the  chap  that 
was  made  president  of  the  O.  A.  D.  last  October." 

"  Never  heard  of  him,"  said  the  artist. 

"  That  shows  how  little  you  know  about  what's 
going  on  downtown.  When  Galloway  died — you've 
heard  of  Galloway  ?  " 

"  I  painted  him — an  old  eagle — or  vulture." 

"  We'll  say  eagle,  as  he's  dead.  When  he  died, 
there  was  a  split  in  the  O.  A.  D.,  which  he  had  dominated 
and  used  for  years — and  mighty  little  he  let  old  Shot- 
well  have,  I  understand,  in  return  for  doing  the  dirty 
work.  Well,  Fosdick  finally  cooked  up  that  investiga 
tion,  frightened  everybody  into  fits,  won  out,  beat  down 
the  Galloway  crowd,  threw  out  Shotwell  and  put  in  this 
young  Western  fellow." 

"What  is  the  O.  A.  D.?" 

"  You  must  have  seen  the  building,  the  advertise 
ments  everywhere — knight  in  armor  beating  off  spec 
ters  of  want.  It's  an  insurance  company." 

"  I  thought  insurance  companies  were  to  insure 
people." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Morris.  "That's  what 
people  think  they're  for — just  as  they  think  steel  com 
panies  are  to  make  steel,  and  coal  companies  to  mine 
coal,  and  railway  companies  to  carry  freight  and  pas 
sengers.  But  all  that,  my  dear  fellow,  is  simply  inci 
dental.  They're  really  to  mass  big  sums  of  money  for 
our  great  financiers  to  scramble  for." 

"  How  interesting,"  said  Raphael  in  an  uninter 
ested  tone.  "  Some  time  I  must  try  to  learn  about 
those  things.  Then  your  cousin  has  divorced  her  hus 
band?  That's  the  tragedy  I  saw  in  her  face." 

35 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Tragedy !  "  Morris  laughed  outright.  "  There 
you  go  again,  Boris.  You're  always  turning  your 
imagination  loose." 

"  To  explore  the  mysteries  my  eyes  find,  my  dear 
Joe,"  said  Boris,  unruffled.  "  You  people — the  great 
mass  of  the  human  race  —  go  through  the  world 
blindfold  —  blindfolded  by  ignorance,  by  prejudice, 
by  letting  your  stupid  brain  tell  your  eyes  what  they 
are  seeing  instead  of  letting  your  eyes  tell  your 
brain." 

"  I  never  heard  there  was  much  to  Neva  Carlin." 

"  Naturally,"  replied  Boris.  "  Not  all  the  people 
who  have  individuality,  personality,  mind  and  heart, 
beat  a  drum  and  march  in  the  middle  of  the  street  to 
inform  the  world  of  the  fact.  As  for  emotions — real 
emotions — they  don't  shriek  and  weep ;  they  hide  and 
are  dumb.  I,  who  let  my  eyes  see  for  themselves,  look 
at  this  woman  and  see  beauty  barefoot  on  the  hot  plow 
shares.  And  you — do  not  look  and,  therefore,  see 
nothing." 

Morris  made  no  reply,  but  his  expression  showed  he 
was  only  silenced,  not  convinced.  He  knew  his  old 
friend  Boris  was  a  great  painter — the  prices  he  got  for 
his  portraits  proved  it;  and  the  portraits  themselves 
were  certainly  interesting,  had  the  air  that  irradiates 
from  every  work  of  genius,  whether  one  likes  or  appre 
ciates  the  work  or  not.  He  knew  that  the  basis  of 
Raphael's  genius  was  in  his  marvelous  sight — "  simply 
seeing  where  others  will  not  "  was  Boris's  own  descrip 
tion  of  his  gift.  Yet  when  Boris  reported  to  him  what 
he  saw,  he  was  incredulous.  "  An  artist's  wild  imagi 
nation,"  he  said  to  himself.  In  the  world  of  the  blind, 
the  dim-eyed  man  is  king,  not  the  seeing  man;  the  see 
ing  man — the  "  seer  " — passes  for  mad,  and  the  blind 


ONLY   COUSIN    NEVA" 


follow  those  with  not  enough  sight  to  rouse  the  distrust 
of  their  flock. 

When  the  painter  returned  to  the  drawing-room 
Neva  was  gone.  As  his  sight  did  not  fail  him  when  he 
watched  the  motions  of  his  bright,  blond  little  friend, 
Mrs.  Joe,  he  suspected  her  of  having  had  a  hand  in 
Neva's  early  departure.  And  she  thought  she  had  her 
self.  But,  in  fact,  Neva  left  because  she  was  too  shy  to 
face  again  the  man  whose  work  she  had  so  long  rever 
enced.  She  knew  she  ought  to  treat  him  as  an  ordi 
nary  human  being,  but  she  could  not;  and  she  yielded 
to  the  impulse  to  fly. 

"  You  must  take  me  to  see  your  cousin,"  said  he, 
his  chagrin  plain. 

"  Whenever  you  like,"  agreed  Letty,  with  that 
elaborate  graciousness  which  raises  a  suspicion  of  in 
sincerity  in  the  most  innocent  mind. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Boris.  And  to  her  surprise 
and  relief  he  halted  there,  without  attempting  to  pin 
her  down  to  day  and  hour.  "  He  asked  simply  to  be 
polite,"  decided  she,  "  and  perhaps  to  irritate  me  a 
little.  He's  full  of  those  feminine  tricks." 


IV 


THE    FOSDICK    FAMILY 


IN  each  of  America's  great  cities,  East,  West, 
South,  Far  West,  a  cliff  of  marble  glistening  down  upon 
the  thoroughfare  where  the  most  thousands  would  see  it 
daily ;  armies  of  missionaries,  so  Fosdick  liked  to  call 
them,  moving  everywhere  among  the  people;  other 
armies  of  officers  and  clerks,  housed  in  the  clifflike  pal 
aces  and  garnering  the  golden  harvests  reaped  by  the 
missionaries — such  was  the  scene  upon  which  Horace 
Armstrong  looked  out  from  his  aerie  in  the  vastest  of 
the  palaces  of  the  O.  A.  D.  And  it  inspired  him. 

Institutions,  like  individuals,  have  a  magnetism,  a 
power  to  attract  and  to  hold,  that  is  quite  apart  from 
any  analyzable  quality  or  characteristic.  Armstrong 
had  grown  up  in  the  O.  A.  D.,  had  preached  it  as  he 
rose  in  its  service  until  he  had  preached  belief  in  it  into 
himself — a  belief  that  was  unshaken  by  the  series  of 
damning  exposures  of  its  Wall  Street  owners  and  users, 
and  had  survived  his  own  discoveries,  as  the  increasing 
importance  of  his  successive  positions  had  forced  the 
"  inside  ring  "  to  let  him  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
secrets.  He  had  not  been  long  in  the  presidency  before 
he  saw  that  the  whole  system  for  gathering  in  more 
and  more  policy  holders,  however  beneficent  incidental 
results  might  be,  had  as  its  sole  purpose  the  drawing  of 
more  and  more  money  within  reach  of  greedy,  unclean 

38 


THE    FOSDICK   FAMILY 

hands.  The  fact  lay  upon  the  surface  of  the  O.  A.  D. 
as  plain  as  a  great  green  serpent  sprawled  upon  the 
ooze  of  a  marsh.  Why  else  would  these  multimillion 
aire  money  hunters  interest  themselves  in  insurance? 
And  not  a  day  passed  without  his  having  to  condemn 
and  deplore — in  his  own  mind — acts  of  the  Fosdick 
clique.  But  morals  are  to  a  great  extent  a  matter  of 
period  and  class ;  Armstrong,  busy,  unanalytic,  "  up- 
to-date  "  man  of  affairs,  accepted  without  much  ques 
tion  the  current  moral  standards  of  and  for  the  man  of 
affairs.  And  when  he  saw  the  inside  ring  "  going  too 
far,"  here  and  there,  now  and  then,  he  no  more  thought 
of  denouncing  it  and  abandoning  his  career  than  a 
preacher  would  think  of  resigning  a  bishopric  because 
he  found  that  his  fellow  bishops  had  not  been  made 
more  than  human  by  the  laying  on  of  hands. 

Where  he  could,  Armstrong  ignored ;  where  he 
could  not  ignore — he  told  himself  that  the  end  excused 
the  means. 

The  busy  days  fled.  He  had  the  feeling  of  being 
caught  in  a  revolving  door  that  took  him  from  bed 
time  to  bedtime  again  without  letting  him  out  to  ac 
complish  anything;  and  he  was  soon  so  well  accommo 
dated  to  the  atmosphere  of  high  finance  that  he  was 
breathing  it  with  almost  no  sensation  of  strangeness. 
When  old  Shotwell  died— of  "heart  failure  "—Arm 
strong  took  out  the  undelivered  speech. 

The  day  after  the  "  testimonial,"  he  had  decided 
that  to  read  that  speech  would  be  dangerously  near  to 
the  line  between  honor  and  dishonor ;  besides,  it  proba 
bly  contained  many  things  which,  whether  true  or 
prejudiced,  might  affect  his  peace  of  mind,  might  in 
flict  upon  his  conscience  unnecessary  discomforts.  A 
wise  man  is  careful  not  to  admit  to  his  valuable  brain 

39 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

space  matters  which  do  not  help  him  in  the  accomplish 
ment  of  his  purposes.  Should  he  mail  the  manuscript 
to  Shotwell?  No.  That  might  tempt  the  old  man  to 
a  course  of  folly  and  disaster.  Armstrong  hid  the 
"  stick  of  dynamite  "  among  his  private  papers.  But 
now,  Shotwell  was  dead ;  and — well,  he  still  believed  in 
the  O.  A.  D. — in  the  main ;  but  many  things  had  hap 
pened  in  the  months  since  he  came  on  from  the  West, 
many  and  disquieting  things.  He  felt  that  he  owed  it 
to  himself,  and  to  the  O.  A.  D.,  to  gather  from  any  and 
every  source  information  about  the  Fosdick  ring.  He 
unfolded  the  manuscript,  spread  it  before  him  on  the 
desk. 

Eleven  typewritten  pages,  setting  forth  in  detail 
how  Fosdick  had  slyly  lured  Shotwell  into  committing, 
apparently  alone,  certain  "  indiscretions "  for  which 
there  happened  to  be  legal  penalties  of  one  to  ten  years 
in  the  penitentiary  at  hard  labor;  how  Shotwell,  thus 
isolated,  was  trapped — though,  as  he  proceeded  to 
show,  he  had  done  nothing  morally  or  legally  worse  than 
all  the  others  had  done,  the  Fosdick  faction  being  care 
ful  to  entangle  in  each  misdeed  enough  of  the  Galloway 
faction  to  make  itself  secure.  And  all  the  offenses 
were  those  "  mere  technicalities  "  which  high  finance 
permits  the  law  to  condemn  only  because  they,  when 
committed  in  lower  circles,  cease  to  be  justifiable  excep 
tions  to  the  rule  and  become  those  "  grave  infractions 
of  social  order  and  of  property  rights  "  which  Chamber 
of  Commerce  dinners  and  bar  associations  of  corpora 
tion  lawyers  so  strenuously  lecture  the  people  about. 
And  so,  Shotwell  had  fallen. 

Armstrong  read  the  document  four  times — the  first 
time,  at  a  gallop ;  the  second  time,  line  by  line ;  the  third 
time,  with  a  long,  thoughtful  pause  after  each  para- 

40 


THE   FOSDICK   FAMILY 

graph ;  the  fourth  time,  line  by  line  again,  with  one 
hand  supporting  his  brow  while  the  index  finger  of  the 
other  traced  under  each  separate  word.  Then  he 
leaned  back  and  gazed  from  peak  to  peak  of  the  sky 
scrapers,  stretching  range  on  range  toward  harbor  and 
river.  He  was  not  thinking  now  of  the  wrongs,  the 
crimes  against  that  mass  of  policy  holders,  so  remote, 
so  abstract.  He  was  listening  to  a  different,  a  more 
terrible  sound  than  the  vague  wail  of  that  vague  mass ; 
he  was  hearing  the  ticking  of  a  death-watch.  For  he 
had  discovered  that  Fosdick  had  him  trapped  in  just 
the  same  way. 

As  a  precaution?  Or  with  the  time  of  his  downfall 
definitely  fixed? 

Armstrong  began  to  pace  the  limits  of  his  big  pri 
vate  room.  For  a  turn  or  so  it  surprised  him  to  find 
that  he  could  move  freely  about ;  for,  with  the  thought 
that  he  was  in  another  man's  power,  had  come  a  physi 
cal  sensation  of  actual  chains  and  bolts  and  bars,  of 
dungeon  walls  and  dungeon  air.  In  another  man's 
power !  In  Fosdick's  power  !  He,  Horace  Armstrong, 
proud,  intensely  alive  and  passionately  fond  of  free 
dom,  with  inflexible  ambition  set  upon  being  the  master 
of  men — he,  a  slave,  dependent  for  his  place,  for  his 
authority,  for  his  very  reputation.  Dependent  on  the 
nod  of  a  fellow  man.  He  straightened  himself,  shook 
himself;  he  clenched  his  fists  and  his  teeth  until  the 
powerful  muscles  of  his  arms  and  shoulders  and  jaws 
swelled  to  aching,  until  the  blood  beat  in  his  skin  like 
flame  against  furnace  wall. 

The  door  opened;  he  saw  as  he  was  turning  that  it 

was  Josiah  Fosdick ;  he  wheeled  back  toward  the  window 

because  he  knew  that  if  he  should  find  himself  full  face 

to  this  master  of  his  before  he  got  self-control,  he  would 

4  41 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

spring  at  him  and  sink  his  fingers  in  his  throat  and 
wring  the  life  out  of  him.  The  will  to  kill !  To  feel 
that  creature  under  him,  under  his  knees  and  fingers ;  to 
see  eyes  and  tongue  burst  out ;  to  know  that  the  brain 
that  dared  conceive  the  thought  of  making  a  slave  of 
him  was  dead  for  its  insolence! 

"  Good  morning,  my  boy !  "  Josiah  was  saying  in 
that  sonorous,  cheery  voice  of  his.  He  always  wore 
his  square-crowned  hard  hat  or  his  top  hat  well  back 
from  his  brow  when  he  was  under  roof  downtown ;  and 
he  was  always  nervously  chewing  at  a  cigar,  which  some 
times  was  lighted  and  sometimes  not.  Just  now  it  was 
not  lighted  and  the  odor  of  it  was  to  Armstrong  the 
sickening  stench  of  the  personality  of  his  master. 

"  My  master ! "  he  muttered,  and  wiped  the  sweat 
from  his  forehead ;  with  eyes  down  and  the  look  of  the 
lion  cringing  before  the  hot  iron  in  its  tamer's  hand  he 
muttered  a  response. 

"  I  want  you  to  put  my  son  Hugo  in  as  one  of  the 
fourth  vice-presidents,"  continued  the  old  man,  seating 
himself  and  cocking  his  trim  feet  on  a  corner  of  the 
table.  "  He  must  be  broken  to  the  business,  and  I've 
told  him  he's  got  to  start  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder." 

Armstrong  contrived  to  force  a  smile  at  this  ironic 
pleasantry  of  his  master's.  He  instantly  saw  Josiah's 
scheme — to  have  the  young  man  inducted  into  the  busi 
ness  ;  presently  to  give  him  the  dignity  and  honor  of  the 
presidency,  ejecting  Armstrong,  perhaps  in  discredit 
to  justify  the  change  and  to  make  it  impossible  for  him 
to  build  up  in  another  company. 

"  You'll  do  what  you  can  to  teach  him  the  ropes?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Armstrong,  at  the  window. 

Fosdick  came  up  close  to  him,  put  his  hand  affec 
tionately  on  his  shoulder.  "  You've  grown  into  my 


THE   FOSDICK    FAMILY 

heart,  Horace.  I  feel  as  if  you  were  another  son  of 
mine,  as  if  Hugo  were  your  younger  brother.  I  want 
you  to  regard  him  as  such.  I'm  old ;  I'll  soon  be  off  the 
boards.  I  like  to  think  of  you  two  young  fellows  work 
ing  together  in  harmony.  It  may  be  that " 

Armstrong  had  himself  well  within  the  harness  now. 
He  looked  calmly  at  Fosdick  and  saw  a  twinkle  in  those 
good-natured,  wicked  eyes  of  his,  a  warning  that  he  had 
guessed  Armstrong's  suspicion  and  was  about  to  coun 
ter  with  something  he  flattered  himself  was  particularly 
shrewd. 

"  It  may  be  I'll  want  your  present  place  for  the 
boy,  after  a  few  years.  Perhaps  it  will  be  better  not 
to  put  him  there ;  again  it  may  be  a  good  thing.  If  I 
decide  to  do  it,  you'll  have  a  better  place — something 
where  there'll  be  an  even  bigger  swing  for  your  talents. 
I'll  see  to  that.  I  charge  myself  with  your  future." 

Armstrong  turned  away,  bringing  his  jaws  together 
with  a  snap. 

"You  trust  me,  don't  you?"  said  Fosdick,  not 
quite  certain  that  Armstrong  had  turned  to  hide  an 
overmastering  emotion  of  gratitude. 

"  I'd  advise  against  making  Hugo  a  vice-president 
just  at  present,"  said  Armstrong. 

"  Why?  "  demanded  Fosdick  with  a  frown. 

"  I  think  such  a  step  wouldn't  be  wise  until  after 
this  new  policy  holders'  committee  has  quieted  down." 

Fosdick  laughed  and  waved  his  arm.  "  Those 
smelling  committees!  My  boy,  I'm  used  to  them. 
Every  big  corporation  has  one  or  more  of  'em  on  hand 
all  the  time.  The  little  fellows  are  always  getting 
jealous  of  the  men  who  control,  are  always  trying  to 
scare  them  into  paying  larger  interest — for  that's  what 
it  amounts  to.  We  men  who  run  things  practically 

43 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

borrow  the  public's  money  for  use  in  our  enterprises. 
You  can  call  it  stocks  or  bonds  or  mortgages  or  what 
not,  but  they're  really  lenders,  though  they  think 
they're  shareholders  and  expect  bigger  interest  than 
mere  money  is  worth.  But  we  don't  and  won't  give 
much  above  the  market  rate.  We  keep  the  rest  of  the 
profits — we're  entitled  to  'em.  We'd  play  hob,  wouldn't 
we,  lying  awake  of  nights  thinking  out  schemes  to  en 
able  John  Jones  and  Tom  Smith  to  earn  thirty,  forty, 
fifty  per  cent  on  their  money  ?  " 

"  But  this  committee — "  There  Armstrong  halt 
ed,  hesitating. 

"  Don't  fret  about  it,  young  man.  The  chances 
are  it'll  quiet  down  of  itself.  If  it  doesn't,  if  it 
should  have  in  it  some  sturdy  beggar  who  persists, 
why,  we'll  hear  from  him  sooner  or  later.  When  we 
get  his  figure,  we  can  quiet  him — put  him  on  the  pay 
roll  or  give  him  a  whack  at  our  appropriation  for  legal 
expenses." 

"  But  this  committee — "  Armstrong  stopped  short 
— why  should  he  warn  Fosdick?  Why  go  out  of 
his  way  to  be  square  with  the  man  who  had  enslaved 
him?  Had  he  not  done  his  whole  duty  when  he  had 
refused  to  listen  to  the  overtures  of  the  new  combiiu- 
tion  against  Fosdick  ?  Indeed,  was  it  more  than  a  mere 
suspicion  that  such  a  combination  existed? 

"  This  committee — what?  " 

"  You  feel  perfectly  safe  about  it  ?  " 

"  It  couldn't  find  out  anything,  if  there  was  any 
thing  to  find  out.  And  if  it  did  find  out  anything, 
what'd  it  do  with  it  ?  No  newspaper  would  publish  it — 
our  advertising  department  takes  care  of  that.  The 
State  Government  wouldn't  notice  it — our  legal  depart 
ment  takes  care  of  them." 

44 


THE   FOSDICK   FAMILY 

"  Sometimes     there's     a     slip-up.       A     few     years 

J5 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Fosdick ;  "  it's  true,  once  in  a 
while  there's  a  big  enough  howl  to  frighten  a  few  weak 
brothers.  But  not  Josiah  Fosdick,  and  not  the  O.  A.  D. 
We  keep  books  better  than  we  did  before  the  big 
clean-up.  A  lot  of  good  those  clean-ups  did!  As  if 
anybody  could  get  up  any  scheme  that  would  prevent 
the  men  with  brains  from  running  things  as  they  damn 
please." 

"  You're  right  there,"  said  Armstrong.  He  had 
thought  out  the  beginnings  of  a  new  course.  "  Well, 
if  you  put  Hugo  in,  I  suggest  you  give  him  my  place 
as  chairman  of  the  finance  committee.  My  strong  hold 
is  executive  work.  Let  those  that  know  finance  attend 
to  taking  care  of  the  money.  I  want  to  devote  myself 
exclusively  to  getting  it  in." 

Armstrong  saw  this  suggestion  raised  not  the 
shadow  of  a  suspicion  in  Fosdick's  mind  that  he  was 
trying  to  get  rid  of  his  share  in  the  responsibility  for 
the  main  part  of  the  "  technically  illegal  "  doings  of 
the  controllers  of  the  company.  "  You  simply  to  re 
tain  your  ex  offlcio  membership?"  said  he  reflectively. 

"  That's  it,"  assented  Armstrong. 

"  If  you  urge  it,  I'll  see  that  it  is  considered.  Your 
time  ought  all  to  be  given  to  raking  in  new  business  and 
holding  on  to  the  old.  Yes,  it's  a  good  suggestion. 
Of  course,  I'll  see  that  you  get  your  share  of  the  profits 
from  our  little  side  deals,  just  the  same." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Armstrong.  He  concealed  his 
amusement.  In  the  company  there  were  rings  within 
rings,  and  the  profits  increased  as  the  center  was  ap 
proached.  He  knew  that  he  himself  had  been  put  in  a 
ring  well  toward  the  outside.  His  profits  were  larger 

45 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

than  his  salary,  large  though  it  was ;  but  they  were 
trifling  in  comparison  with  the  "  melons  "  reserved  for 
the  inner  rings,  were  infinitesimal  beside  the  big  melon 
Josiah  reserved  for  himself,  as  his  own  share  in  addition 
to  a  share  in  each  ring's  "  rake  off."  The  only  ring 
Josiah  didn't  put  himself  in  was  the  outermost  ring  of 
all — the  ring  of  policy  holders.  There  was  another  fea 
ture  in  which  insurance  surpassed  railways  and  indus 
trials.  In  them  the  controller  sometimes  had  to  lock 
up  a  large  part  of  his  own  personal  resources  in  carry 
ing  blocks  of  stock  that  paid  a  paltry  four  or  five  or 
six  per  cent  interest,  never  more  than  seven  or  eight, 
often  nothing  at  all.  But  in  insurance,  the  controller 
played  his  game  wholly  with  other  people's  money. 
Josiah,  for  instance,  carried  a  policy  of  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and  that  was  the  full  extent  of  his  investment ; 
he  held  his  power  over  the  millions  of  the  masses  simply 
because  the  proxies  of  the  policy  holders  were  made  out 
in  blank  to  his  creatures,  the  general  agents,  whom  he 
made  and,  at  the  slightest  sign  of  flagging  personal 
loyalty,  deposed. 

Fosdick  was  still  emitting  compliment  and  promise 
like  a  giant  pinwheel's  glittering  shower  when  the  boy 
brought  Armstrong  a  card.  He  controlled  his  face 
better  than  he  thought.  "  Your  daughter,"  he  said  to 
Fosdick,  carelessly  showing  him  the  card.  "  I  suppose 
she's  downtown  to  see  you,  and  they  told  her  you  were 
in  my  office." 

"  Amy !  "  exclaimed  Fosdick,  forgetting  his  man 
ners  and  snatching  the  card.  "  What  the  devil  does 
she  want  downtown?  I'll  just  see — it  must  be  im 
portant." 

He  hurried  out.  In  the  second  of  Armstrong's 
suite  of  three  offices,  he  saw  her,  seated  comfortably — a 

46 


THE   FOSDICK   FAMILI 


fine  exhibit  of  fashion,  and  not  so  unmindful  of  the  im 
pression  her  elegance  was  making  upon  the  furtively 
glancing  underlings  as  she  seemed  or  imagined  herself. 
At  sight  of  her  father  she  colored,  then  tossed  her  head 
defiantly.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  demanded,  with  some 
anxiety.  "  What  has  brought  you  downtown  to  see 
me?" 

"  I  didn't  come  to  see  you,"  she  replied.  "  I  sent 
my  card  to  Mr.  Armstrong." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  of  him  ?  "  said  Josiah,  re 
gardless  of  the  presence  of  Armstrong's  three  secre 
taries. 

"  I'll  explain  that  to  him" 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  can't  have  my 
children  interrupting  busy  men.  Come  along  with 
me." 

"  I  came  to  see  Mr.  Armstrong,  and  I'm  going  to 
see  him,"  she  retorted  imperiously. 

Her  father  changed  his  tactics  like  the  veteran 
strategist  that  he  was.  "  All  right,  all  right.  Come 
in.  Only,  we're  not  going  to  stay  long." 

"  I  don't  want  you,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  I  want 
him  to  show  me  over  the  building." 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed  Fosdick,  winking 
at  the  three  smiling  secretaries.  "  And  he  the  presi 
dent  !  Did  anybody  ever  hear  the  like !  "  And  he  took 
her  by  the  arm  and  led  her  in,  saying  as  they  came, 
:<  This  young  lady,  finding  time  heavy  on  her  hands  up 
town,  has  come  to  get  you  to  show  her  over  the 
building." 

Armstrong  had  risen  to  bow  coldly.  "  I'm  sorry, 
but  I  really  haven't  time  to-day,"  said  he  formally. 

Fosdick's  brow  reddened  and  his  eyes  flashed.  He 
had  not  expected  Armstrong  to  offer  to  act  as  his 

47 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

daughter's  guide ;  but  neither  had  he  expected  this  tone 
from  an  employee.  "  Don't  be  so  serious,  young  man," 
said  he,  roughness  putting  on  the  manner  of  good 
nature.  "  Take  my  daughter  round  and  bring  her  to 
my  office  when  you  are  through." 

To  give  Armstrong  time  and  the  opportunity  to  ex 
tricate  himself  from  the  impossible  position  into  which 
he  had  rushed,  Amy  said,  "  What  grand,  beautiful  of 
fices  these  are !  No  wonder  the  men  prefer  it  down 
town  to  the  fussy,  freaky  houses  the  women  get  to 
gether  uptown.  I  haven't  been  here  since  the  building 
was  opened.  Papa  made  a  great  ceremony  of  that, 
and  we  all  came — I  was  nine.  Now,  Mr.  Armstrong, 
you  can  count  up,  if  you're  depraved  enough,  and  know 
exactly  how  old  I  am." 

Armstrong  had  taken  up  his  hat.  "  Whenever 
you're  ready,  we'll  start,"  said  he,  having  concluded  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  refuse  without  seeming  ridi 
culous. 

When  the  two  were  in  the  elevator  on  their  way  to 
the  view  from  the  top  of  the  building,  Amy  glanced 
mischievously  up  at  him.  "  You  see,  I  got  my  way," 
said  she.  "  I  always  do." 

Armstrong  shrugged  and  smiled  stolidly.  "  In 
trifles.  Willful  people  are  always  winning — in  trifles." 

"Trifles  are  all  that  women  deal  in,"  rejoined  she. 

At  the  top,  she  sent  one  swift  glance  round  the 
overwhelming  panorama  of  peak  and  precipice  and 
canon  swept  by  icy  January  wind  and  ran  back  to  the 
tower,  drawing  her  furs  still  closer  about  her.  "  I 
didn't  come  to  see  this,"  she  said.  "  I  came  to  find  out 
why  you  don't — why  you  have  cut  me  off  your  visiting 
list.  I've  written  you — I've  tried  to  get  you  on  the 

48 


THE   FOSDICK   FAMILY 

telephone.  Never  did  I  humiliate  myself  so  abjectly — 
in  fact,  never  before  was  I  abject  at  all.  It  isn't  like 
you,  to  be  as  good  friends  as  you  and  I  have  been,  and 
then,  all  at  once,  to  act  like  this — unless  there  was  a 
reason.  I  haven't  many  friends.  I  haven't  any  I  like 
so  well  as  you — that's  frank,  isn't  it?  I  thought  we 
were  going  to  be  such  friends."  This  nervously,  with 
an  air  of  timidity  that  was  the  thin  cover  of  perfect 
self-possession  and  self-confidence. 

"  So  did  I,"  said  Armstrong,  his  eyes  on  hers  with  a 
steadiness  she  could  not  withstand,  "  until  I  got  at  your 
notion  of  friendship.  You  can  have  dogs  and  servants, 
hangers-on,  but  not  friends." 

"What  did  I  do?"  she  asked  innocently.  "Gra 
cious,  how  touchy  you  are." 

In  his  eyes  there  was  an  amused  refusal  to  accept 
her  pretense.  "  You  understand.  Don't  '  fake  '  with 
me.  I'm  too  old  a  bird  for  that  snare." 

"  If  I  did  anything  to  offend  you,  it  was  uncon 
scious." 

"  Perhaps  it  was — at  the  time.  You've  got  the 
habit  of  ordering  people  about,  of  having  everybody  do 
just  what  you  wish.  But,  in  thinking  things  over, 
didn't  you  guess  what  discouraged  me?  " 

She  decided  to  admit  what  could  not  be  denied. 
"Yes  — I  did,"  said  she.  "And  that  is  why  I've 
come  to  you.  I  forgot,  and  treated  you  like  the 
others.  I  did  it  several  times,  and  disregarded  the 
danger  signals  you  flew.  Let's  begin  once  more — will 
you?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Armstrong,  but  without  en 
thusiasm. 

"  You  aren't  forgiving  me,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Or — 
was  there — something  else?  " 

49 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

His  eyes  shifted  and  he  retreated  a  step.  "  You 
mustn't  expect  much  from  me,  you  know,"  said  he, 
looking  huge  and  unapproachable.  "  All  my  time  is 
taken  up  with  business.  You've  no  real  use  for  a  man 
like  me.  What  you  want  is  somebody  to  idle  about 
with  you." 

"  That's  just  what  I  don't  want,"  she  cried,  gazing 
admiringly  up  at  him.  And  she  was  sad  and  reproach 
ful  as  she  pleaded.  "  You  oughtn't  to  desert  me.  I 
know  I  can't  do  much  for  you,  but —  You  found 
me  idle  and  oh,  so  bored.  Why,  I  used  to  spend  hours 
in  trying  to  think  of  trivial  ways  to  pass  the  time.  I'd 
run  to  see  pictures  I  didn't  in  the  least  care  about,  and 
linger  at  the  dressmakers'  and  the  milliners'  shops  and 
the  jewelers'.  I'd  dress  myself  as  slowly  as  possible. 
You  can't  imagine — you  who  have  to  fight  against 
being  overwhelmed  with  things  to  do.  You  can't  con 
ceive  what  a  time  the  women  in  our  station  have.  And 
one  suggestion  you  made — that  I  study  architecture 
and  fit  myself  to  help  in  building  our  house — it  changed 
my  whole  life." 

"  It  was  the  obvious  thing  to  do,"  said  he,  and  she 
saw  he  was  not  in  the  least  flattered  by  her  flattery 
which  she  had  thought  would  be  irresistible. 

"  You  forget,"  replied  she,  "  that  we  women  of  the 
upper  class  are  brought  up  not  to  put  out  our  minds  on 
anything  for  very  long,  but  to  fly  from  one  thing  to 
another.  I'd  never  have  had  the  persistence  to  keep  at 
architecture  until  the  hard  part  of  the  reading  was  fin 
ished.  I'd  have  bought  a  lot  of  books,  glanced  at  the 
pictures,  read  a  few  pages  and  then  dropped  the  whole 
business.  And  it  was  really  through  you  that  I  got 
father  to  introduce  me  to  Narcisse  Siersdorf.  I've 
grown  so  fond  of  her !  Why  is  it  the  women  out 

50 


THE   FOSDICK   FAMILY 

West,  out  where  you  come  from,  are  so  much  more  cap 
able  than  we  are?  " 

"  Because  they're  educated  in  much  the  same  way  as 
the  men,"  replied  he.  "  Also,  I  suppose  the  men  out 
there  aren't  rich  enough  yet  to  tempt  the  women  to  be 
come — odalisques.  Here,  every  one  of  you  is  either  an 
odalisque  or  trying  to  get  hold  of  some  man  with  money 
enough  to  make  her  one." 

"  What  is  an  odalisque  ?  It's  some  kind  of  a  wom 
an,  isn't  it?" 

"  Well— it's  of  that  sex." 

"  You  think  I'm  very  worthless,  don't  you?  " 

"  To  a  man  like  me.  For  a  man  with  time  for 
what  they  call  the  ornamental  side  of  life,  you'd  be — 
just  right." 

"  Was  that  why — the  real  reason  why — you  stopped 
coming?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  was  looking  at  her,  she  at  the  floor,  gathering 
her  courage  to  make  a  reply  which  instinct  forbade  and 
vanity  and  desire  urged.  Hugo's  head  appeared  in  the 
hatchway  entrance  to  the  tower  room.  As  she  was  fac 
ing  it,  she  saw  him  immediately.  "  Hello,  brother," 
she  cried,  irritation  in  her  voice. 

He  did  not  answer  until  he  had  emerged  into  the 
room.  Then  he  said  with  great  dignity,  "  Amy,  father 
wants  you.  Come  with  me."  This  without  a  glance 
at  Armstrong. 

"  Would  you  believe  he  is  three  years  younger  than 
I?  "  said  she  to  Armstrong  with  a  laugh.  "  Run  along, 
Hugo,  and  tell  papa  we're  coming." 

Hugo  turned  on  Armstrong.  "  Will  you  kindly 
descend?  "  he  ordered,  with  the  hauteur  of  a  prince  in  a 
novel  or  play. 

51 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Do  as  your  sister  bids,  Hugo,"  said  Armstrong, 
with  a  carelessness  that  bordered  on  contempt.  He 
was  in  no  very  good  humor  with  the  Fosdick  family  and 
Hugo's  impudence  pushed  him  dangerously  near  to  the 
line  where  a  self-respecting  man  casts  aside  politeness 
and  prudence. 

Hugo  drew  himself  up  and  stared  coldly  at  the 
"  employee."  "  You  will  please  not  address  me  as 
Hugo." 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  Armstrong,  with  no  overt  in 
tent  to  offend.  "  Shall  I  whistle  when  I  want  you,  or 
snap  my  fingers  ?  " 

Amy  increased  Hugo's  fury  by  laughing  at  him. 
"  You'd  better  behave,  Hugo,"  she  said.  "  Come 
along."  And  she  pushed  him,  less  reluctant  than  he 
seemed,  toward  the  stairway. 

The  three  descended  in  the  elevator  together,  Amy 
talking  incessantly,  Armstrong  tranquil,  Hugo  sullen. 
At  the  seventeenth  floor,  Armstrong  had  the  elevator 
stopped.  "  Good-by,"  he  said  to  Amy,  without  offer 
ing  to  shake  hands. 

"  Good-by,"  responded  she,  extending  her  hand  in 
sistently.  "  Remember,  we  are  friends  again." 

With  a  slight  noncommittal  smile,  he  touched  her 
gloved  fingers  and  went  his  way. 

There  was  no  one  in  Fosdick's  private  room;  so, 
Hugo  was  free  to  ease  his  mind.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  coming  down  here  and  making  a  scandal?  "  he  burst 
out.  "  It  was  bad  enough  for  you  to  encourage  the 
fellow's  attentions  uptown — to  flirt  with  him.  You — 
flirting  with  one  of  your  father's  employees !  " 

Amy's  eyes  sparkled  angrily.  "  Horace  Arm 
strong  is  my  best  friend,"  she  said.  "  You  must  be 
careful  what  you  say  to  me  about  him." 

52 


THE   FOSDICK   FAMILY 

"  The  next  thing,  you'll  be  boasting  you're  in  love 
with  him,"  sneered  her  brother. 

"  I  might  do  worse,"  retorted  she.  "  I  could 
hardly  do  better." 

"  What's  the  matter,  children?  "  cried  their  father, 
entering  suddenly  by  a  door  which  had  been  ajar,  and 
by  which  they  had  not  expected  him. 

"  Hugo  has  been  making  a  fool  of  himself  before 
Armstrong,"  said  Amy.  "  Why  did  you  send  him 
after  me?  " 

"I?"  replied  Fosdick.  "I  simply  told  him  where 
you  were." 

"  But  I  suspected,"  said  Hugo.  "  And,  sure  enough, 
I  found  her  flirting  with  him.  I  stopped  it — that's 
all." 

Fosdick  laughed  boisterously — an  unnatural  laugh, 
Amy  thought.  "  Do  light  your  cigar,  father,"  she 
said  irritably.  "  It  smells  horrid." 

Fosdick  threw  it  away.  "  Horace  is  a  mighty  at 
tractive  fellow,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  blame  you,  Mimi." 
Then,  with  good-humored  seriousness,  "  But  you  must 
be  careful,  girl,  not  to  raise  false  hopes  in  him.  Be 
friendly,  but  don't  place  yourself  in  an  unpleasant  po 
sition.  You  oughtn't  to  let  him  lose  sight  of  the — the 
gulf  between  you." 

"What  gulf?" 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  he's  not  in  our  class," 
exclaimed  Hugo,  helping  out  his  somewhat  embarrassed 
father. 

"  What  is  our  class  ?  "  inquired  Amy  in  her  most 
perverse  mood. 

"  Shut  up,  Hugo !  "  commanded  his  father.  "  She 
understands." 

"  But  I  do  not,"  protested  Amv. 
53 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Very  well,"  replied  her  father,  kissing  her.  "  Be 
careful — that's  all.  Now,  I'll  put  you  in  your  car 
riage."  On  the  way  he  said  gravely,  tenderly,  "  I'll 
trust  you  with  a  secret — a  part  of  one.  I  know  Arm 
strong  better  than  you  do.  He's  an  adventurer,  and  I 
fear  he  has  got  into  serious  trouble,  very  serious. 
Keep  this  to  yourself,  Mimi.  Trust  your  father's 
judgment — at  least,  for  a  few  months.  Be  most  polite 
to  our  fascinating  friend,  but  keep  him  at  a  safe  dis 
tance." 

Fosdick  could  be  wonderfully  moving  and  impressive 
when  he  set  himself  to  it ;  and  he  knew  when  to  stop  as 
well  as  what  to  say.  Amy  made  no  reply;  in  silence 
she  let  him  tuck  the  robe  about  her  and  start  her  home 
ward. 


NAECISSE    AND    ALOIS 

WHEN  Amy  thought  of  her  surroundings  again, 
she  was  within  a  few  blocks  of  home.  "  I  won't  lunch 
alone,"  she  said.  "  I  can't,  with  this  on  my  mind." 
Through  the  tube  she  bade  the  coachman  turn  back  to 
the  Siersdorf  offices. 

A  few  minutes,  and  her  little  victoria  was  at  the  curb 
before  a  brownstone  house  that  would  have  passed  for  a 
residence  had  there  not  been,  to  the  right  of  the  door 
way,  a  small  bronze  sign  bearing  the  words,  "  A.  and 
N.  Siersdorf,  Builders."  Two  women  were  together 
on  the  sidewalk  at  the  foot  of  the  stoop.  One,  Amy 
noted,  had  a  curiously  long  face,  a  curiously  narrow 
figure ;  but  she  noted  nothing  further,  as  there  was 
nothing  in  her  toilet  to  arrest  the  feminine  eye,  ever  on 
the  rove  for  opportunities  to  learn  something,  or  to 
criticise  something,  in  the  appearance  of  other  women. 
The  other  was  Narcisse  Siersdorf — a  strong  figure, 
somewhat  below  the  medium  height,  like  Amy  herself ;  a 
certain  remote  Teutonic  suggestion  in  the  oval  features, 
fair,  fine  skin  and  abundant  fair  hair ;  a  quick,  positive 
manner,  the  dress  of  a  highly  prosperous  working 
woman,  businesslike  yet  feminine  and  attractive  in  its 
details.  The  short  blue  skirt,  for  example,  escaped  the 
ground  evenly,  hung  well  and  fitted  well  across  the  hips  ; 
the  blue  jacket  was  cut  for  freedom  of  movement  with- 

55 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

out  sacrificing  grace  of  line ;  and  her  white  gloves  were 
fresh.  As  Amy  descended,  she  heard  Narcisse  say  to 
the  other  woman,  "  Now,  please  don't  treat  me  as  a 
'  foreign  devil.'  If  I  hadn't  happened  on  you  in  the 
street,  I'd  never  have  seen  you." 

"  Really,  I've  intended  to  stop  in,  every  time  I 
passed,"  said  the  other,  moving  away  as  she  saw  Amy 
approaching.  "  Good-by.  I'll  send  you  a  note  as 
soon  as  I  get  back — about  a  week." 

"  One  of  the  girls  from  out  West,"  Narcisse  ex 
plained.  "  We  went  to  school  together  for  a  while. 
She's  as  shy  as  a  hermit  thrush,  but  worth  pursuing." 

"  You're  to  lunch  with  me,"  said  Amy. 

Narcisse  shook  her  head.  "  No — and  you're  not 
lunching  with  me,  to-day.  My  brother's  come,  and 
we've  got  to  talk  business." 

Amy  frowned,  remembering  that  those  tactics  were 
of  no  avail  with  Narcisse.  "  Please !  I  want  to  meet 
your  brother — I  really  ought  to  meet  him.  And  I'll 
promise  not  to  speak." 

"  He's  a  man ;  so  he'd  be  unable  to  talk  freely,  with 
a  woman  there,"  replied  Narcisse.  "  You  two  would 
be  posing  and  trying  to  make  an  impression  on  each 
other." 

"Please!" 

They  were  in  the  doorway,  Narcisse  blocking  the 
passage  to  the  offices.  "  Good-by,"  she  said.  "  You 
mustn't  push  in  between  the  poor  and  their  bread  and 
butter." 

Amy  was  turning  away.  Her  expression — forlorn, 
hurt,  and  movingly  genuine — was  too  much  for  Nar- 
cisse's  firmness.  "  You're  not  especially  gay  to-day," 
said  she,  relentingly. 

Amy,  quick  as  a  child  to  detect  the  yielding  note, 
56 


NARCISSE   AND   ALOIS 

brought  her  flitting  mind  back  to  Armstrong  and  her 
troubles.  "  My  faith  in  a  person  I  was  very  fond  of 
has  been — shaken."  There  was  a  break  in  her  voice, 
and  her  bright  shallow  eyes  were  misty. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Narcisse,  not  wholly  deceived,  but 
too  soft-hearted  not  to  give  Amy  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt,  just  as  she  gave  to  whining  beggars,  though  she 
knew  they  were  "  working "  her.  Anyhow,  was  not 
Amy  to  be  pitied  on  general  principles,  and  dealt  gently 
with,  as  a  victim  of  the  blight  of  wealth? 

Amy  never  entered  those  offices  without  a  new  sensa 
tion  of  pleasure.  The  voluntary  environment  of  a 
human  being  is  a  projection,  a  reflection,  of  his  inner 
self,  is  the  plain,  undeceiving  index  to  his  real  life — for, 
is  not  the  life  within,  the  drama  of  thought,  the  real 
life,  and  the  drama  of  action  but  the  imperfect,  dis 
torted  shadowgraph?  The  barest  room  can  be  most 
significant  of  the  personality  of  its  tenant;  his  failure 
to  make  any  impression  on  his  surroundings  is  conclu 
sive.  The  most  crowded  or  the  gaudiest  room  may 
tell  the  same  story  as  the  barest.  The  Siersdorfs  con 
ducted  their  business  in  five  rooms,  each  a  different  ex 
pression  of  the  simplicity  and  sincerity  which  char 
acterized  them  and  their  work.  There  was  the  same 
notable  absence  of  the  useless,  of  the  merely  orna 
mental,  the  same  making  of  every  detail  contributory 
both  to  use  and  to  beauty.  One  wearies  of  rooms  that 
are  in  any  way  ostentatious ;  proclamation  of  simplicity 
is  as  tedious  as  proclamation  of  pretentiousness.  Those 
rooms  seemed  to  diffuse  serenity;  they  were  like  the 
friends  of  whom  one  never  tires  because  they  always  have 
something  new  and  interesting  to  offer.  Especially  did 
there  seem  to  be  something  miraculous  about  Narcisse's 
own  private  office.  It  had  few  articles  in  it,  and  they 
5  57 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

unobtrusive ;  yet,  to  sit  in  that  room  and  look  about  was 
to  have  as  many  differing  impressions  as  one  would  get 
in  watching  a  beam  of  white  light  upon  a  plain  of  virgin 
snow. 

"  How  do  you  do  it !  "  Amy  exclaimed,  as  she  seated 
herself.  She  almost  always  made  the  same  remark  in 
the  same  circumstances.  "  But  then,"  she  went  on, 
"  you  are  a  miracle.  Now,  there's  the  dress  you've  got 
on — it's  a  jacket,  a  blouse,  a  belt  and  a  skirt.  But 
what  have  you  done  to  it?  How  do  you  induce  your 
dressmaker  to  put  together  such  things  for  you?  " 

"  You  have  to  tell  a  dressmaker  what  to  do,"  replied 
Narcisse,  "  and  then  you  have  to  tell  her  how  to  do  it. 
If  she  knew  what  to  make  and  how,  she'd  not  stop  at 
dressmaking  long.  As  I  get  only  a  few  things,  I  can 
take  pains  with  them.  But  you  get  so  many  that  you 
have  to  accept  what  somebody  else  has  thought  out, 
and  just  as  they've  thought  it  out." 

"  And  the  result  is,  I  look  a  frump,"  said  Amy,  half 
believing  it  for  the  moment. 

"  You  look  the  woman  who  has  too  many  clothes  to 
have  any  that  really  belong  to  her,"  replied  Narcisse, 
greatly  to  Amy's  secret  irritation.  "  There's  the  curse 
of  wealth — too  many  clothes,  to  be  well  dressed;  too 
many  servants,  to  be  well  served ;  too  many  and  too  big 
houses,  to  be  well  housed ;  too  much  food,  to  be  well  fed." 
Then  to  the  office  boy  for  whom  she  had  rung,  "  Please 
ask  my  brother  if  he's  ready." 

Soon  Siersdorf  appeared — about  five  years  younger 
than  his  sister,  who  seemed  a  scant  thirty;  in  his  dress 
and  way  of  wearing  the  hair  and  beard  a  suggestion  of 
Europe,  of  Paris,  and  of  the  artist — a  mere  suggestion, 
just  a  touch  of  individuality — but  not  a  trace  of  pose, 
and  no  eccentricity.  He  was  of  the  medium  height, 

58 


NAECISSE   AND   ALOIS 


very  blond,  with  more  sympathy  than  strength  in  his 
features,  but  no  defined  weakness  either.  A  boy-man 
of  fine  instincts  and  tastes,  you  would  have  said;  indo 
lent,  yet  capable  of  being  spurred  to  toil;  taking  his 
color  from  his  surroundings,  yet  retaining  his  own  fiber. 
He  was  just  back  from  a  year  abroad,  where  he  had 
been  studying  country  houses  with  especial  reference  to 
harmony  between  house  and  garden — for,  the  Siersdorfs 
had  a  theory  that  a  place  should  be  designed  in  its  en 
tirety  and  that  the  builder  should  be  the  designer.  They 
called  themselves  builders  rather  than  architects,  be 
cause  they  thought  that  the  separation  of  the  two  in 
separable  departments  was  a  ruinous  piece  of  artistic 
snobbishness — what  is  every  kind  of  snobbishness  in  its 
essence  but  the  divorce  of  brain  and  hand?  "  No  self- 
respecting  man,"  Siersdorf  often  said,  "  can  look  on  his 
trade  as  anything  but  a  profession,  or  on  his  profession 
as  anything  but  a  trade." 

During  lunch  Amy  all  but  forgot  her  father's  de 
pressing  hints  against  Armstrong  in  listening  as  the 
brother  and  sister  talked;  and,  as  she  listened,  she 
envied.  They  were  so  interested,  and  so  interesting. 
Their  life  revealed  her  own  as  drearily  flat  and  wearily 
empty.  They  knew  so  much,  knew  it  so  thoroughly. 
"  How  could  anyone  else  fail  to  get  tired  of  me  when  I 
get  so  horribly  tired  of  myself?  "  she  thought,  at  the 
low  ebb  of  depression  about  herself — an  unusual  mood, 
for  habitually  she  took  it  for  granted  that  she  must  be 
one  of  the  most  envied  and  most  enviable  persons  in  the 
world. 

Narcisse  suddenly  said  to  her  brother,  "  Whom  do 
you  think  I  met  to-day  ?  Neva  Carlin."  At  that  name 
Amy,  startled,  became  alert.  "  She's  got  a  studio  down 
at  the  end  of  the  block,"  Narcisse  went  on,  "  and  is  tak- 

59 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

ing  lessons  from  Boris  Raphael.  That  shows  she  has 
real  talent,  unless — "  She  paused  with  a  smile. 

"  Probably,"  said  Alois.  "  Boris  is  always  in  love 
with  some  woman." 

"  In  love  with  love,"  corrected  Narcisse.  "  Men 
who  are  always  in  love  care  little  about  the  particular 
woman  who  happens  to  be  the  medium  of  the  moment." 

"  I  thought  she  was  well  off,"  said  Alois ;  and  then 
he  looked  slightly  confused,  as  if  he  was  trying  not  to 
show  that  he  had  made  a  slip. 

Narcisse  seemed  unconscious,  though  she  replied 
with,  "  There  are  people  in  the  world  who  work  when 
they  don't  have  to.  And  a  few  of  them  are  women." 

"  But  I  thought  she  was  married,  too.  It  seems  to 
me  I  heard  it  somewhere." 

"  I  didn't  ask  questions,"  said  Narcisse.  "  I  never 
do,  when  I  meet  anyone  I  haven't  seen  in  a  long  time. 
It's  highly  unsafe." 

With  studied  carelessness  Amy  now  said :  "  I'd 
like  to  know  her.  She's  the  woman  you  were  talking 
with  at  the  door  just  now,  isn't  she?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Narcisse. 

"  She  looked — unusual,"  continued  Amy.  "  I  wish 
you'd  take  me  to  see  her." 

"  I'll  be  very  glad  to  take  you,"  Narcisse  offered,  on 
impulse.  "  Perhaps  she's  really  got  talent  and  isn't 
simply  looking  for  a  husband.  Usually,  when  a  woman 
shows  signs  of  industry  it  means  she's  looking  for  a 
husband,  whatever  it  may  seem  to  mean.  But,  if 
Neva's  in  earnest  about  her  work  and  has  talent,  you 
might  put  her  in  the  way  of  an  order  or  so." 

"I'll  go,  any  day,"  said  Amy.  "Please  don't 
forget." 

She  departed  as  soon  as  lunch  was  over,  and  the 
60 


NARCISSE   AND   ALOIS 


brother  and  sister  set  out  for  their  offices — not  for 
their  work;  it  they  never  left.  "Pretty,  isn't  she?" 
said  Alois.  "  And  extremely  intelligent." 

"  She  is  intelligent  in  a  scrappy  sort  of  way,"  re 
plied  his  sister.  "  But  she  neither  said  nor  did  any 
thing  in  your  presence  to-day  to  indicate  it." 

"  Well,  then — she's  pretty  enough  to  make  a  mere 
man  think  she's  intelligent." 

"  I  saw  you  were  beginning  to  fall  in  love  with  her," 
said  the  sister. 

"I?     Ridiculous!" 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  better  than  you  know  yourself  in 
some  ways.  You've  been  bent  on  marriage  for  several 
years  now." 

"  I  want  children,"  said  he,  after  a  pause. 

"  That's  it — children.  But,  instead  of  looking  for 
a  mother  for  children,  you've  got  eyes  only  for  the  sort 
of  women  that  either  refuse  to  have  children,  or,  if  they 
have  them,  abandon  them  to  nurses.  Let  the  Amy  Fos- 
dick  sort  alone,  Alois.  A  cane  for  a  lounger ;  a  staff 
for  a  traveler." 

"  You're  prejudiced." 

"  I'm  a  woman,  and  I  know  women.  And  I  have  in 
terest  enough  in  you  to  tell  you  the  exact  truth  about 
them." 

"  No  woman  ever  knows  the  side  of  another  woman 
that  she  shows  only  to  the  man  she  cares  for." 

"  A  very  unimportant  side.  Its  gilt  hardly  lasts 
through  the  wedding  ceremony.  If  you  are  going  to 
make  the  career  you've  got  the  talent  for,  you  don't 
want  an  Amy  Fosdick.  You'd  be  better  off  without 
any  wife,  for  that  matter.  You  ought  to  have  married 
when  you  were  poor,  if  you  were  going  to  do  it.  You're 
too  prosperous  now.  If  you  marry  a  poor  woman, 

61 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

you'll  spoil  her ;  if  you  marry  a  rich  woman,  she'll  spoil 
you." 

"  You're  too  harsh  with  your  own  sex,  Narcisse," 
said  Alois.  "  If  I  didn't  know  you  so  well,  I'd  think 
you  were  really  hard.  Who'd  ever  imagine,  just  hear 
ing  you  talk,  that  you  are  so  tender-hearted  you 
have  to  be  protected  from  your  own  sentimentality? 
The  real  truth  is  you  don't  want  me  to  marry." 

"  To  marry  foolishly — no.  Tell  me,  'Lois,  what 
could  you  gain  by  marrying — say,  Amy  Fosdick?  In 
what  way  could  she  possibly  help  you?  She  couldn't 
make  a  home  for  you — she  doesn't  know  the  first  thing 
about  housekeeping.  The  prosperous  people  nowa 
days  think  their  daughters  are  learning  housekeeping 
when  they're  learning  to  ruin  servants  by  ordering  them 
about.  You  say  I'm  harsh  with  my  sex,  but,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  fact,  I'm  only  just." 

"Just!"  Alois  laughed.  "That's  the  harshest 
word  the  human  tongue  utters." 

"  I've  small  patience  with  women,  I  will  admit. 
They  amount  to  little,  and  they're  sinking  to  less. 
Girls  used  to  dream  of  the  man  they'd  marry.  Now 
it's  not  the  man  at  all,  but  the  establishment.  Their 
romance  is  of  furniture  and  carriages  and  servants 
and  clothes.  A  man,  any  man,  to  support  them  in 
luxury." 

"  I've  noticed  that,"  admitted  Alois. 

"  It's  bad  enough  to  look  on  marriage  as  a  career," 
continued  Narcisse.  "  But,  pass  that  over.  What  do 
the  women  do  to  fit  themselves  for  it?  A  man  learns 
his  business — usually  in  a  half-hearted  sort  of  way,  but 
still  he  tries  to  learn  a  little  something  about  it.  A 
woman  affects  to  despise  hers — and  does  shirk  it.  She 
knows  nothing  about  cooking,  nothing  about  buying, 

62 


NARCISSE    AND    ALOIS 

nothing  about  values  or  quantities  or  economy  or  health 
or  babies  or —  She  rarely  knows  how  to  put  on  the 
clothes  she  gets ;  you'll  admit  that  most  women  show 
plainly  they  haven't  a  notion  what  clothes  they  ought  to 
wear.  Women  don't  even  know  enough  to  get  to 
gether  respectably  clever  traps  to  catch  the  men  with. 
The  men  fall  in ;  they  aren't  drawn  in." 

"  Yet,"  said  Alois,  ironic  and  irritated,  "  the  world 
staggers  on." 

"  Staggers,"  retorted  Narcisse.  "  And  the  pros 
perous  classes — we're  talking  about  them — don't  even 
stagger  on.  They  stop  and  slide  back — what  can  be 
expected  of  the  husbands  of  such  wives,  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  such  mothers  ?  " 

Narcisse  was  so  intensely  in  earnest  that  her  brother 
laughed  outright.  "  There,  there,  Cissy,"  said  he, 
"  don't  be  alarmed — I'm  not  even  engaged  yet." 

Narcisse  made  no  reply.  She  knew  the  weak  side  of 
her  brother's  character,  knew  its  melancholy  possibili 
ties  of  development ;  and  she  had  guessed  what  was  pass 
ing  in  his  mind  as  he  and  Amy  were  trying  each  to  please 
the  other. 

"  You  yourself  would  be  the  better — the  happier, 
certainly — for  falling  in  love,"  pursued  Alois. 

"  Indeed  I  should,"  she  assented  with  sincerity. 
"  But  the  man  who  comes  for  me — or  whom  I  set  my 
snares  for — must  have  something  more  than  a  pretty 
face  or  a  few  sex-tricks  that  ought  not  to  fool  a  girl 
just  out  of  the  nursery." 

No  arrow  penetrates  a  man's  self-esteem  more 
deeply  than  an  insinuation  that  he  is  easy  game  for 
women.  But  Alois  was  no  match  for  his  sister  at  that 
kind  of  warfare.  He  hid  his  irritation,  and  said  good- 
humoredly,  "  When  you  fall  in  love,  my  dear,  it'll  be 

63 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED   GENTRY 

just  like  the  rest  of  us — with  your  heart,  not  with  your 
head." 

Narcisse  looked  at  him  shrewdly,  yet  lovingly,  too. 
"  I'm  not  afraid  of  your  marrying  because  you've  fallen 
in  love.  What  I'm  agitated  about  is  lest  you'll  fall  in 
love  because  you  want  to  marry." 

Alois  had  an  uncomfortable  look  that  was  con 
fession. 


VI 

NEVA   GOES  TO   SCHOOL 

BORIS  let  a  week,  nearly  two  weeks,  pass  before  he 
went  to  see  Miss  Carlin.  He  thought  he  was  delaying 
in  hope  that  the  impulse  to  investigate  her  would  wane 
and  wink  out.  He  had  invariably  had  this  same  hope 
about  every  such  impulse,  and  invariably  had  been  dis 
appointed.  The  truth  was,  whenever  he  happened  upon 
a  woman  with  certain  lines  of  figure  and  certain  ex 
pression  of  eyes — the  lines  and  the  expression  that 
struck  the  keynote  of  his  masculine  nerves  for  the  femi 
nine — he  pursued  and  paused  not  until  he  was  satisfied, 
sated,  calm  again — or  hopelessly  baffled.  And  as  he 
was  attractive  to  women,  and  both  adroit  and  reckless, 
and  not  at  all  afraid  of  them,  his  failures  were  few. 

In  this  particular  case  the  cause  of  his  long  delay  in 
beginning  was  that  he  had  just  maneuvered  his  affair 
with  the  famously  beautiful  Mrs.  Coventry  to  the  point 
where  each  was  trying  to  get  rid  of  the  other  with  full 
and  obvious  credit  for  being  the  one  to  break  off.  Mrs. 
Coventry  was  stupid;  even  her  beauty,  changelessly 
lovely,  bored  and  irritated  him.  But  nature  had  given 
her  in  default  of  brains  a  subtle  craftiness;  thus,  she 
had  been  able  to  meet  Boris's  every  attempt  to  cast  her 
off  with  a  move  that  put  her  in  the  position  of  seeming 
to  be  the  one  who  was  doing  the  casting — and  Boris  had 
a  feminine  vanity  in  those  matters.  At  last,  however, 

65 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

his  weariness  of  his  tiresome  professional  beauty  and 
his  impatience  to  begin  a  new  adventure  combined  to 
make  him  indifferent  to  what  people  might  say  and 
think.  Instead  of  sailing  with  Mrs.  Coventry,  as  he 
had  intended,  he  abruptly  canceled  his  passage;  and 
while  she  was  descending  the  bay  on  the  Oceanic,  he 
was  moving  toward  Miss  Carlin's  studio. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  me?  "  said  he  in  that  de 
lightfully  ingenuous  way  of  his,  as  he  entered  the  large 
studio  and  faced  the  shy,  plainly  dressed  young  woman 
from  the  Western  small  town. 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  she,  obviously  fluttered  and 
flattered  by  this  utterly  unexpected  visit  from  the  great 
man. 

"  I  come  as  a  brother  artist,"  he  explained.  He  was 
standing  before  her,  handsome  and  picturesque  in  a 
costume  that  was  yet  conventional.  He  diffused  the 
odor  of  a  powerful,  agreeable,  distinctly  feminine  per 
fume.  The  feminine  details  of  his  toilet  made  his 
strong  body  and  aggressive  face  seem  the  more  mascu 
line;  his  face,  his  virile,  clean,  blond  beard,  his  massive 
shoulders,  on  the  other  hand,  made  his  perfume,  his 
plaited  shirt  and  flowing  tie,  his  several  gorgeous  rings 
and  his  too  neat  boots  seem  the  more  flauntingly  femi 
nine.  "  What  I  saw  of  you,"  he  proceeded,  "  and  what 
your  cousin  told  me,  roused  my  interest  and  my 
curiosity." 

At  "  curiosity  "  his  clear,  boyish  eyes  danced  and  his 
smile  showed  even,  very  white  teeth  and  part  of  the  in 
terior  of  a  too  ruddy,  too  healthily  red  mouth.  Like 
everything  about  him  that  was  characteristic,  this  smile 
both  fascinated  and  repelled.  Evidently  this  man  drew 
an  intense  physical  joy  from  life,  had  made  of  his  in 
tellect  an  expert  extractor  of  the  last  sweet  drop  of 

66 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

pleasure  that  could  be  got  from  perfectly  healthy, 
monstrously  acute  nerves.  When  he  used  any  nerve, 
any  of  those  trained  servants  of  his  sybarite  passions, 
it  was  no  careless,  ignorant  performance  such  as  ordi 
nary  mortals  are  content  with.  It  was  a  finished  and 
perfect  work  of  art — and  somehow  suggestive  of  a 
tiger  licking  its  chops  and  fangs  and  claws  and  fur  that 
it  might  not  lose  a  shred  of  its  victim's  flesh.  But  this 
impression  of  repulsion  was  fleeting ;  the  charm  of  the 
personality  carried  off,  where  it  did  not  conceal,  the 
sinister  side.  Because  Boris  understood  his  fellow 
beings,  especially  the  women,  so  thoroughly,  they  could 
not  but  think  him  sympathetic,  could  not  appreciate 
that  he  lured  them  into  exposing  or  releasing  their 
emotions  solely  for  his  own  enjoyment. 

But  Neva  was  seeing  the  artist  so  vividly  that  she 
was  seeing  the  man  not  at  all.  Only  those  capable  of 
real  enthusiasm  can  appreciate  how  keenly  she  both  suf 
fered  and  enjoyed,  in  the  presence  of  the  Boris  Raphael 
who  to  her  meant  the  incorporeal  spirit  of  the  art  she 
loved  and  served.  He,  to  relieve  her  embarrassment 
and  to  give  her  time  to  collect  herself,  turned  his 
whole  attention  to  her  work — a  portrait  of  Molly, 
the  old  servant  she  had  brought  with  her  from  Battle 
Field. 

He  seemed  absorbed  in  the  unfinished  picture.  In 
fact,  he  was  thinking  only  of  her.  By  the  infection  to 
which  highly  sensitive  people  are  susceptible,  he  had  be 
come  as  embarrassed  as  she.  One  of  the  chief  sources 
of  his  power  with  women  was  his  ability  to  be  in  his  own 
person  whatever  the  particular  woman  he  was  seeking 
happened  to  be — foolish  with  the  foolish,  youthful  with 
the  young,  wise  with  the  sensible,  serpentine  with  the 
crafty,  coarse  with  the  grossly  material,  spiritual  with 

67 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

the  high-minded.     He  had  all  natures  within  himself  and 
could  show  whichever  he  pleased. 

As  he  felt  Neva's  presence,  felt  the  thrill  of  those 
moving  graces  of  her  figure,  the  passion  that  those  mys 
terious  veiled  eyes  of  hers  inspired,  he  was  still  per 
fectly  aware  of  her  defects,  all  of  them,  all  that  must 
be  done  before  she  should  be  ready  to  pluck  and  enjoy. 
It  was  one  of  her  bad  mornings.  Her  skin  was  rather 
sallow  and  her  eyelids  were  too  heavy.  Since  she  had 
been  in  New  York,  she  had  adopted  saner  habits  of 
regular  eating  and  regular  exercise  than  she  had  had, 
or  had  even  known  about,  in  Battle  Field.  She  was  be 
ginning  to  understand  why  most  people,  especially  most 
women,  go  to  pieces  young;  and  for  the  sake  of  her 
work,  not  at  all  because  she  hoped  for  or  wished  for 
physical  beauty,  she  was  taking  better  care  of  herself. 
But  latterly  she  had  been  all  but  prostrate  before  a 
violent  attack  of  the  blues,  and  had  been  eating  and 
sleeping  irregularly,  and  not  exercising.  Thus,  only 
a  Boris  Raphael  would  have  suspected  her  possibilities 
as  she  stood  there,  slightly  stooped,  the  sallowness  of 
her  skin  harmonizing  drearily  with  her  long,  loose  dark- 
brown  blouse,  neutral  in  itself  and  a  neutralizer.  He 
saw  at  a  glance  the  secret  of  her  having  been  able  to  de 
ceive  everybody,  to  conceal  herself,  even  from  herself. 
He  felt  the  discoverer's  thrill ;  his  blood  fired  like 
knight's  at  sight  of  secret,  sleeping  princess.  But  he 
pretended  to  ignore  her  as  a  personality  of  the  opposite 
sex  pole,  knowing  that  to  see  her  and  know  her  as  she 
really  was  he  must  not  let  her  suspect  she  was  observed. 
He  reveled  in  such  adventures  upon  soul  privacy,  not 
the  least  disturbed  because  they  bore  a  not  remote  re 
semblance  to  that  of  the  spy  upon  a  nymph  at  the  forest 
pool.  He  justified  himself  by  arguing  that  he  made  no 

68 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

improper  use  of  his  discoveries,  but  laid  them  upon  the 
high  and  holy  altars  of  art  and  love. 

Far  from  being  discouraged  by  the  difficulties  which 
Neva  was  that  morning  making  so  obvious,  he  welcomed 
the  abrupt  change  from  the  monotonous  beauty  of 
Doris  Coventry.  She  had  given  him  no  opportunity  for 
the  exercise  of  his  peculiar  talents.  With  her  the  ban 
quet  was  ready  spread ;  with  this  woman  practically 
everything  had  to  be  prepared.  And  what  a  banquet 
it  would  be!  When  he  had  developed  her  beauty,  had 
made  her  all  that  nature  intended,  had  taught  her  self- 
confidence  and  the  value  of  externals  and  had  given 
her  the  courage  to  express  the  ideas  and  the  emotions 
that  now  shrank  shyly  behind  those  marvelous  eyes  of 
hers —  How  poor,  how  paltry,  how  tedious  seemed 
such  adventures  as  that  with  Doris  Coventry  beside  this 
he  was  now  entering ! 

As  if  he  were  her  teacher,  he  took  up  the  palette  and 
with  her  long-handled  brushes  made  a  dozen  light,  swift 
touches — what  would  have  been  an  intolerable  insolence 
in  a  less  than  he.  To  be  master  was  but  asserting  his 
natural  right ;  men  hated  him  for  it,  but  the  women 
liked  him  and  it. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried  delightedly  as  she  observed  the  re 
sult  of  what  he  had  done.  Then,  at  the  contrast  be 
tween  his  work  and  her  own,  cried  "  Oh,"  again,  but  de 
spondently. 

"  You  must  let  me  teach  you,"  said  he,  as  if  ad 
dressing  the  talent  revealed  in  her  picture. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  learn  ?  "  she  asked  wist 
fully. 

He  elevated  his  shoulders  and  brows.  "  We  must 
all  push  on  until  we  reach  our  limit ;  and  until  we  reach 
it,  we,  nor  no  man,  can  say  where  it  is." 

69 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  But  I've  no  right  to  your  time,"  she  said  reluc 
tantly. 

"  I  teach  to  learn.  I  teach  only  those  from  whom 
I  get  more  than  I  give.  You  see,"  with  his  engaging 
boyish  smile,  "  I  have  the  mercantile  instinct." 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  searching  for  the  mo 
tive  behind  an  offer,  so  curious,  so  improbable  in  and  of 
itself.  She  saw  before  her  now  the  outward  and  visible 
form  of  the  genius  she  revered — a  very  handsome  man, 
a  man  whose  knowledge  how  to  make  himself  agreeable 
to  women  must  obviously  have  been  got  by  much  and 
intimate  experience ;  a  man  whose  sensuous  eyes  and  ob 
streperous  masculinity  of  thick  waving  hair  and  thick 
crisp  reddish  beard,  roused  in  her  the  distrust  bred  by 
ages  on  ages  of  enforced  female  wariness  of  the  male 
that  is  ever  on  conquest  bent  and  is  never  so  completely 
conqueror  as  when  conquered.  But  this  primordial 
instinct,  never  developed  in  her  by  experience,  was 
feeble,  was  immediately  silenced  by  the  aspect  of  him 
which  she  clearly  understood — his  look  of  breadth  and 
luminousness  and  simplicity,  the  master's  eye  and  the 
master's  air — the  great  man. 

"  You  will  teach  me  more  than  I  you,"  he  insisted. 

"  Why?  "  she  managed  to  object,  wondering  at  her 
own  courage  as  much  as  at  his  condescension — for  such 
an  offer  from  such  a  man  was,  she  felt,  indeed  a  conde 
scension. 

"  Because  you  paint  with  your  heart  while  I  paint 
rather  with  my  head." 

"  But  that  is  the  greater." 

"  No.     It  is  simply  different.     Neither  is  great." 

"Neither?" 

"  Only  he  is  supremely  great  who  works  with  both 
heart  and  mind." 

70 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

She  showed  how  well  she  understood,  by  saying, 
"  Leonardo,  for  example?  " 

Boris's  face  was  the  devotee's  at  mention  of  the  god. 
The  worldliness,  the  aggressive  animality  vanished. 
"  Leonardo  alone  among  painters,"  said  he.  "  And  he 
reached  the  pinnacle  in  one  picture  only — the  picture  of 
the  woman  he  loved  yet  judged." 

Her  own  expression  had  changed.  The  least  ob 
servant  would  have  seen  just  then  why  Boris,  connois 
seur,  had  paused  before  her.  She  had  dropped  her 
mask,  had  come  forth  as  the  shy  beauties  of  the  field 
lift  their  heads  above  the  snow  in  response  to  the  sun  of 
early  spring.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  had  met 
a  human  being  to  whom  life  meant  precisely  what  it 
had  meant  to  her.  His  own  expression  of  exaltation 
passed  with  the  impulse  that  had  given  it  birth ;  but  she 
did  not  see.  He  was  for  her  Boris  Raphael,  artist 
through  and  through.  Instead  of  suspicion  and  shrink 
ing,  her  long  narrow  eyes,  luminous,  mysterious,  now 
expressed  confidence;  she  would  never  again  be  afraid 
of  one  who  had  in  him  what  this  man  had  revealed 
to  her.  She  had  always  seen  it  in  his  work;  she 
greeted  it  in  the  man  himself  as  one  greets  an  old,  a 
stanch  friend,  tested  in  moods  and  times  of  sorrow 
and  trial. 

He  glanced  at  her,  glanced  hastily  away  lest  she 
should  realize  how  close  he  had  thus  quickly  got  to  her 
soul,  shy  and  graceful  and  resplendent  as  a  flamingo. 
"  You  will  let  me  teach  you  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  don't  understand  your  asking." 

"  Nor  do  I,"  replied  he.  "  All  I  know  is,  I  felt  I 
must  come  and  offer  my  services.  It  only  remains  for 
you  to  obey  your  impulse  to  accept." 

Without  further  hesitation  she  accepted ;  and  there 
71 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

was  firmly  established  the  intimate  relations  of  master 
workman  and  apprentice,  with  painting,  and  through 
painting  the  whole  of  life,  as  the  trade,  to  be  learned. 
For,  the  arts  are  a  group  of  sister  peaks  commanding 
the  entire  panorama  of  truth  and  beauty,  of  action  and 
repose ;  and  to  learn  of  a  master  at  any  one  of  them  is 
to  be  pupil  to  all  wisdom. 

Boris  arranged  with  her  to  come  three  mornings  a 
week  to  the  atelier,  raftered  and  galleried,  which  he  had 
made  of  the  top  stories  of  two  quaint  old  houses  in 
Chelsea's  one  remaining  green  square.  Soon  he  was 
seeing  her  several  afternoons  also,  at  her  apartment ; 
and  they  were  lunching  and  dining  together,  both  alone 
and  in  the  company  of  artists  and  the  sort  of  fashion 
able  serious-idle  people  who  seek  the  society  of  artists. 
The  part  of  her  shyness  that  was  merely  strangeness 
did  not  long  withstand  his  easy,  sympathetic  manner, 
his  simplicity,  his  adroitness  at  drawing  out  the  best 
in  any  person  with  whom  he  took  pains  to  exert  himself. 
It  required  much  clever  maneuvering  before  he  got  her 
rid  of  the  shyness  that  came  from  lack  of  belief  in  her 
power  to  interest  others.  The  people  out  West,  inexpert 
in  the  social  art,  awkward  and  shy  with  each  other,  often 
in  intimate  family  life  even,  had  without  in  the  least 
intending  it,  encouraged  her  and  confirmed  her  in  this 
depressing  disbelief.  In  all  her  life  she  had  never  been 
so  well  acquainted  with  anyone  as  with  Boris  after  a 
week  of  the  lessons;  and  with  him,  even  after  two 
months  of  friendship,  she  would  suddenly  and  unac 
countably  close  up  like  a  sensitive  plant,  be  embarrassed 
and  constrained,  feel  and  act  as  if  he  were  a  stranger. 
Self-confidence  finally  came  through  others,  not  at  all 
through  him.  Her  new  acquaintances,  observant,  sym- 

72 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

pathetic,  quickly  saw  what  Boris  pointed  out  to  them; 
and  by  their  manner,  by  their  many  and  urgent  invita 
tions  and  similar  delicate  indirect  compliments,  they 
made  her  feel  without  realizing  it  that  she  was  not 
merely  tolerated  for  his  sake,  but  was  sought  on  her 
own  account. 

We  hear  much  of  the  effect  of  things  internal,  little 
of  the  far  more  potent  effect  of  externals.  Boris, 
frankly  materialistic, was  all  for  externals.  For  him  the 
external  was  not  only  the  sign  of  what  was  within,  but 
also  was  actually  its  creator.  He  believed  that  char 
acter  was  more  accurately  revealed  in  dress  than  in 
conversation,  in  manners  than  in  professions.  "  Show 
me  through  a  woman's  living  place,"  he  often  said,  "  and 
I  will  tell  you  more  about  her  soul  than  she  could  tell 
her  confessor."  His  one  interest  in  Neva  was  her  phys 
ical  beauty;  his  one  object,  to  develop  it  to  the  utmost 
of  the  possibilities  he  alone  saw.  But  he  was  in  no 
hurry.  He  had  the  assiduous  patience  of  genius  that 
works  steadily  and  puts  deliberate  thought  into  every 
stroke.  He  would  not  spoil  his  creation  by  haste;  he 
would  not  rob  himself  of  a  single  one  of  the  joys  of 
anticipation.  And  his  pleasure  was  enhanced  by  the 
knowledge  that  if  she  so  much  as  suspected  his  real 
design,  or  any  design  at  all,  she  would  shut  herself  away 
beyond  his  reach. 

"  I  want  you  as  a  model,"  said  he  one  day,  in  the 
offhand  manner  he  used  with  her  to  conceal  direct  per 
sonal  purpose.  "  But  you've  got  to  make  changes  in 
your  appearance — dress — way  of  wearing  the  hair — all 
that." 

She  alarmed  him  by  coloring  vividly ;  he  had  no  sus 
picion  that  it  was  because  she  had  been  secretly  using 
him  as  a  model  for  several  months.  "  I've  hurt  your 
6  73 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

vanity  ?  "  said  he.  "  Well,  I  never  before  knew  you  had 
that  sort  of  vanity.  I  fancied  you  gave  the  least  pos 
sible  attention  to  your  outside." 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  help  you  in  any  way,"  she  hastened 
to  assure  him.  "  You're  quite  wrong  about  my  reason 
for  not  accepting  at  once.  It  wasn't  wounded  vanity. 
...  I  don't  know  whether  I  have  much  vanity  or 
not.  I've  never  thought  about  it." 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  you  will  have,  when  you've 
seen  the  picture  I'll  make.  What  a  queer,  puritanic  lot 
you  Westerners  are ! "  He  seated  himself  at  ease 
astride  a  chair,  and  gazed  at  her  impersonally,  as  art 
ist  at  model  in  whom  interest  is  severely  professional. 
"  I  suppose  you  don't  know  you  are  a  very  beautiful 
woman — or  could  be  if  you  half  tried." 

"  No,  I  don't,"  replied  she  indifferently.  "  What 
do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  To  become  beautiful." 

"  Don't  tease  me,"  said  she  curtly.  "  I  hate  my 
looks.  I  never  see  myself  if  I  can  help  it." 

He  took  the  master's  tone  with  her.  "  You  will 
kindly  keep  this  away  from  the  personal,"  reprimanded 
he.  "  I  am  discussing  you  as  a  model.  I've  no  interest 
in  your  vanity  or  lack  of  it." 

She  resumed  her  place  as  pupil  with  a  meek  "  I  beg 
your  pardon." 

"  First,  I  want  you  to  spend  time  in  looking  at 
yourself  in  the  glass  and  in  thinking  about  yourself, 
your  personal  appearance.  I  want  you  to  do  this,  so 
that  you  may  be  of  use  to  me.  But  you  really  ought 
to  do  it  for  your  own  sake.  If  you  are  to  be  an  artist, 
you  must  live.  To  live  you  must  use  to  its  fullest 
capacity  every  advantage  nature  has  given  you.  The 
more  you  give  others,  the  more  you  will  receive.  It  is 

74 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

not  to  your  credit  that  you  don't  think  about  dress  or 
study  yourself  in  the  mirror.  The  reverse.  If  you 
are  homely,  thought  and  attention  will  make  you  less 
so.  If  you  are  beautiful,  or  could  be —  What  a 
crime  to  add  to  the  unsightliness  of  the  world  when  one 
might  add  to  its  sightliness!  And  what  an  imperti 
nence  to  search  for,  to  cry  for  beauty,  and  to  refuse  to 
do  your  own  part." 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  in  that  way,"  confessed  she, 
evidently  impressed  by  this  unanswerable  logic. 

He  eyed  her  professionally  through  the  smoke  of 
his  cigarette.  "  If  you  are  to  help  me  with  the  picture  I 
have  in  mind,  you'll  have  to  change  your  hair — for  the 
next  few  months.  Your  way  of  wearing  it,  I  mean — 
though  that  will  change  the  color  too — or.  rather, 
bring  out  the  color." 

Neva  colored  with  embarrassment,  remembered  she 
was  but  a  model,  braced  herself  resolutely. 

"  For  my  purposes —  Just  stand  before  that  mir 
ror  there."  He  indicated  the  great  mirror  which  gave 
him  double  the  width  of  the  atelier  as  perspective  for 
his  work.  "  Now,  you'll  observe  that  by  braiding  your 
hair  and  putting  it  on  top  of  your  head,  you  ruin  the 
lines  I  wish  to  bring  out.  The  beautiful  and  the  gro 
tesque  are  very  close  to  each  other.  Your  face  and 
figure  ought  to  be  notable  as  an  exhibit  of  beautiful 
lengths.  But  when  you  put  your  hair  on  top  of  your 
head,  you  extend  the  long  lines  of  neck  and  face  too 
far — at  least,  for  my  purposes." 

"  I  see,"  said  she,  herself  quite  forgotten ;  for,  his 
impersonal  manner  was  completely  convincing,  and  his 
exposition  of  the  principles  of  art  was  as  important  as 
novel  and  interesting. 

"  Do  your  hair  well  down  toward  the  nape  of  the 
75 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

neck — and  loosely.  Somewhat  as  it  was  that  night  at 
the  Morrises,  only — more  so." 

"  I'll  try  it,"  she  said  with  what  sounded  hopefully 
like  the  beginnings  of  acquiescence. 

"  That's  better ! "  exclaimed  he,  in  approval  of  her 
docile  tone.  "  And  keep  on  trying  till  you  get  it  right. 
You'll  know.  You've  got  good  taste.  If  you  hadn't, 
it'd  be  useless  to  talk  these  things  to  you.  The  thing 
is  to  bring  out  your  natural  good  taste — to  encour 
age,  to  educate,  instead  of  repressing  it.  ...  No, 
don't  turn  away,  yet.  I  want  you  to  notice  some  color 
effects.  That  dress  you  have  on —  You  always  wear 
clothes  that  are  severely  somber,  almost  funereal — 
quite  funereal.  One  would  think,  to  look  at  your  garb, 
that  there  was  no  laughter  anywhere  in  you — no  possi 
bilities  of  laughter." 

Neva's  laughing  face,  looking  at  him  by  way  of  the 
mirror,  showed  that  she  was  now  in  just  the  mood  he 
wished.  "  I  want  to  make  a  very  human  picture,"  he 
went  on.  "  And,  while  the  dominant  note  of  the  human 
aspect  in  repose  is  serious — pensive  to  tragic — it  is  re 
lieved  by  suggestions  of  laughter.  Your  dress  makes 
your  sadness  look  depressed,  resigned,  chronic.  Yet 
you  yourself  are  strong  and  cheerful  and  brave.  You 
do  not  whimper.  Why  look  as  if  you  did,  and  by  in 
fection  depress  others?  Don't  you  think  we  owe  it  to 
a  sad  world  to  contribute  whatever  of  lightness  we 
can?" 

She  nodded.     "  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  said  she. 

"Well,  don't  you  think  it's  about  time  you  did? 
.  .  .  Now,  please  observe  that  you  wear  clothes  with 
too  many  short  lines  in  their  making — lines  that  con 
tradict  the  long  lines  of  your  head  and  body." 

She  whirled  away  from  the  mirror,  hung  her  head, 
76 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 


with  color  high  and  hands  nervous.  "  Don't,  please," 
she  said.  "  You  are  making  me  miserably  self-con 
scious." 

"  Oh,  very  well."  He  seemed  offended,  hurt.  "  I 
see  you've  misunderstood.  How  can  I  get  any  good 
out  of  you  as  a  model  unless  you  let  me  be  frank? 
Why  drag  self,  your  personal  feelings,  to  the  fore? 
That  is  not  art." 

A  long  silence,  during  which  she  watched  him  as 
he  scowled  at  his  cigarette.  "  I'm  sorry,"  she  ex 
claimed  contritely.  "  I'm  both  ungracious  and  un 
grateful." 

"  Vanity,  I  call  it,"  he  said,  with  pretended  disdain. 
"  Plain  vanity — and  cheap,  and  altogether  unworthy  of 
you." 

"  Go  on,  please,"  she  urged.  "  I'll  not  give  you 
further  trouble."  Then  she  added,  to  his  secret  de 
light,  "  Only,  please  don't  ask  me  to  look  at  myself  be 
fore  you — until — until — I've  had  a  chance  to  improve 
a  little." 

"  To  go  back  to  the  hair  again,"  pursued  he,  con 
cealing  his  satisfaction  over  his  victory.  "  My  notion 
— for  my  picture — is  much  less  severe  than  you  are 
habitually — in  appearance,  I  mean.  The  hair  must  be 
easy,  graceful,  loose.  It  must  form  a  background  for 
the  face,  a  crown  for  the  figure.  And  I  want  all  the 
colors  and  shades  you  now  hide  away  in  those  plaits." 
He  surveyed  her  absently.  "  I'm  not  sure  whether  I 
shall  paint  you  in  high  or  low  neck.  Get  both  kinds 
of  dresses — along  the  lines  I've  indicated.  .  .  .  Have 
them  made;  don't  buy  those  ready-to-wear  things  you 
waste  money  on  now.  ...  I  want  to  be  able  to  study 
you  at  leisure.  So,  you'll  have  to  put  aside  that  prim, 
puritanic  costume  for  a  while.  You  won't  mind?  " 

77 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

She  had  her  face  turned  away.  She  simply  shook 
her  head  in  answer. 

"  I  know  you  despise  these  exterior  things — so  far 
as  you  personally  are  concerned,"  he  proceeded  in  a 
kindlier  tone.  "  I've  no  quarrel  with  that.  My  own 
views  are  different.  You  pride  yourself  on  being  free 
from  all  social  ties  or  obligations " 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  she.  "  Indeed,  I'm  not  so 
egotistical." 

"  Egotism !  "  He  waved  it  away.  "  A  mere  word. 
It  simply  means  human  nature  with  the  blinds  up.  And 
modesty  is  human  nature  with  the  blinds  down.  We 
are  all  egotists.  How  is  it  possible  for  us  not  to  be? 
Does  not  the  universe  begin  when  we  are  born  and  end 
when  we  die?  Certainly,  you  are  an  egotist.  But  you 
are  very  short-sighted  in  your  egotism,  my  friend." 

"  Yes  ?  "  She  was  all  attention  now. 

"  You  want  many  things  in  the  world — things  you 
can't  get  for  yourself — things  you  must  therefore  look 
to  others  to  help  you  get.  You  want  reputation, 
friendship,  love,  to  name  the  three  principal  wants, 
bread  being  provided  for  you.  Well — your  problem  is 
how  to  get  them  in  fullest  measure  and  in  the  briefest 
time — for,  your  wants  are  great  and  pressing,  and  life 
is  short." 

"  But  I  must  have  them  by  fair  means  and  they 
must  be  really  mine.  I  don't  want  what  mere  externals 
attract." 

"Pish!  Tush!  Tommy  rot!"  Boris  left  the 
chair,  took  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  the  manner  of 
the  instructor  of  a  class.  "  To  get  them  you  must  use 
to  the  best  advantage  all  the  gifts  nature  has  given 
you — at  least,  you  will,  if  you  are  wise,  I  think.  Some 
of  these  gifts  are  internal,  some  are  external.  We  are 

78 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

each  of  us  encased  in  matter,  and  we  get  contact  with 
each  other  only  by  means  of  matter.  Externals  are 
therefore  important,  are  they  not?  To  attract  others, 
those  of  the  kind  we  like,  we  must  develop  our  external 
to  be  as  pleasing  as  possible  to  them.  In  general,  we 
owe  it  to  our  fellow  beings  to  be  as  sightly  a  part  of 
the  view  as  we  can.  In  particular,  we  owe  it  to  our 
selves  to  make  the  best  of  our  minds  and  bodies,  for 
our  own  pleasure  and  to  attract  those  who  are  congenial 
to  us  and  can  do  us  the  most  good." 

"  I  shall  have  to  think  about  that,"  said  she,  and  he 
saw  that  she  was  more  than  half  converted.  "  I've 
always  been  taught  to  regard  those  things  as  trivial." 

"  Trivial !  Another  word  that  means  nothing. 
Life — this  life — is  all  we  have.  How  can  anything  that 
makes  for  its  happiness  or  unhappiness  be  trivial? 
You  with  your  passion  for  beauty  would  have  every 
thing  beautiful,  exquisite,  except  yourself!  What  sel 
fishness!  You  don't  care  about  your  own  appearance 
because  you  don't  see  it." 

She  laughed.     "Really,  am  I  so  bad  as  all  that?" 

"  The  trouble  with  you  is,  you  haven't  thought 
about  these  things,  but  have  accepted  the  judgment  of 
others  about  them.  And  what  others?  Why,  sheep, 
cattle,  parrots — the  doddering  dolts  who  make  public 
opinion  in  any  given  place  or  at  any  given  time." 

She  nodded  slowly,  thoughtfully. 

"  Another  point.  You  are  trying  to  have  a  career. 
Now,  that's  something  new  in  the  world — for  women  to 
have  careers.  You  face  at  best  a  hard  enough  struggle. 
You  must  do  very  superior  work  indeed,  to  convince 
anyone  you  are  entitled  to  equal  consideration  with 
men  as  a  worker.  Why  handicap  yourself  by  creating 
an  impression  that  you  are  eccentric,  bizarre?  " 

79 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

Neva  looked  astonished.  "  I  don't  understand," 
said  she. 

"  What  is  the  normal  mode  for  a  woman  ?  To  be 
feminine — careful  of  her  looks,  fond  of  dress,  as  pleas 
ing  to  the  eye  as  possible.  Do  you  strive  to  be  normal 
in  every  way  but  the  one  way  of  making  a  career,  and 
so  force  people  to  see  you're  a  real  woman,  a  well-bal 
anced  human  being?  " 

Neva  had  the  expression  of  one  in  the  dark,  toward 
whom  light  is  beginning  to  glimmer. 

"  A  woman,"  proceeded  he,  the  impersonal  instruc 
tor,  "  a  woman  going  in  for  a  career  and  so,  laying 
herself  open  to  suspicion  of  being  6  strong-minded  '  and 
*  masculine  '  and  all  sorts  of  hard,  unsympathetic,  un- 
f  eminine  things  that  are  to  the  mutton-headed  a  sign  of 
want  of  balance — a  woman  should  be  careful  to  remove 
that  impression.  How?  By  being  ultra-feminine,  most 
fashionable  in  dress,  most  alluring  in  appearance —  Do 
you  follow  me  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Neva.  "  You've  given  me  a  great 
deal  to  think  about.  .  .  .  Why,  how  blind  we  are  to 
the  obvious !  Now  that  I  see  it,  I  feel  like  a  fool." 

"  Use  the  same  good  taste  in  your  own  appearance 
that  you  use  in  bringing  out  beauty  in  your  surround 
ings.  Note  that " 

Boris  paused  abruptly ;  his  passion  was  betraying 
itself  both  in  his  eyes  and  in  his  voice.  But  he  saw 
that  Neva  had,  as  usual,  forgotten  the  teacher  in  the 
lesson.  He  felt  relieved,  yet  irritated,  too.  Never  be 
fore  had  he  found  a  woman  who  could  maintain,  out 
wardly  at  least,  the  fiction  of  friendship  unalloyed  with 
passion.  "  She  acts  exactly  as  if  she  were  another 
man,"  said  he  discontentedly  to  himself,  "  except  when 
she  treats  me  as  if  I  were  another  woman." 

80 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

He  did  not  return  to  the  subject  of  her  appearance. 
And  his  judgment  that  he  had  said  enough — and  his 
confidence  in  her  good  taste — were  confirmed  a  few  days 
later.  She  came  in  a  new  hat,  a  new  blouse,  and  with 
her  hair  done  as  he  had  suggested.  The  changes  were 
in  themselves  slight ;  but  now  that  her  complexion  had 
been  cleared  and  taken  on  its  proper  color — a  healthy 
pallor  that  made  her  eyes  sparkle  and  glow,  every  little 
change  for  the  better  wrought  marvels.  A  good  com 
plexion  alone  has  redeemed  many  a  woman  from  down 
right  ugliness;  Neva's  complexion  now  gave  her  regu 
lar  features  and  blue-white  teeth  and  changeful, 
mysterious  eyes  their  opportunity.  The  new  blouse, 
one  of  the  prettiest  he  had  ever  seen,  took  away  the 
pinched-in  look  across  the  shoulders  to  which  he  had  ob 
jected.  As  for  her  hair,  it  was  no  longer  a  melange  of 
light  brown  and  dark  brown,  but  a  halo  of  harmonizing 
tints  from  deepest  red  to  brightest  gold,  a  merry  play 
ground  for  sunbeams.  He  was  astounded,  startled. 
"  Why,  she  has  really  marvelous  hair !  "  he  muttered. 
Then  he  laughed  aloud ;  she,  watching  him  for  signs  of 
his  opinion,  wore  an  expression  like  a  child's  before  its 
sphinxlike  teacher.  She  echoed  his  laugh. 

"  My  advice  about  the  mirror  was  not  so  bad,  eh  ?  " 
said  he. 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  she,  with  the  first  gleam  of 
coquetry  he  had  ever  seen. 

Puzzling  over  her  seeming  unconsciousness  of  the, 
to  him,  all-important  fact  that  she  was  a  woman  and  he 
a  man,  he  decided  that  it  must  be  a  deliberately  chosen 
policy,  the  result  of  things  she  had  heard  about  him. 
He  had  always  avoided  talking  of  his  conquests,  though 
he  appreciated  that  it  was  the  quick  and  easy  road  to  a 

81 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

fresh  conquest ;  but  it  pleased  him  to  feel  that  his  repu 
tation  as  a  rake,  a  man  before  whom  women  struck  the 
flag  at  the  first  sign  from  him,  was  as  great  as  his  fame 
for  painting.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that,  if  Neva  had 
heard,  as  she  must,  she  could  not  but  be  in  a  receptive 
state  of  mind.  "  That's  why  she's  on  her  guard,"  he 
concluded.  "  She's  secretly  at  war  with  the  old-fash 
ioned  notions  in  which  she  was  bred." 

He  could  not  long  keep  silent.  "  Has  somebody 
been  slandering  me  to  my  friend?  "  asked  he  abruptly, 
one  day,  after  they  had  both  been  silently  at  work  for 
nearly  an  hour. 

She  paused,  glanced  at  him,  shook  her  head — a 
very  charming  head  it  was  now,  with  the  hair  free 
about  her  temples  and  ears  and  in  a  loose  coil  low  upon 
her  neck.  "  No,"  said  she,  apparently  with  candor. 
"Why?" 

"  It  seemed  to  me  you  were  peculiar  of  late — distant 
with  me." 

"  Really,  it  isn't  so.  You  know  I'd  not  permit  any 
one  to  speak  against  you  to  me." 

"  But — well,  a  man  of  my  sort  always  has  a  lot  of 
stories  going  round  about  him — things  not  usually  re 
garded  as  discreditable — but  you  might  not  take  so 
lenient  a  view." 

Her  face  turned  toward  her  easel  again,  her  ex 
pression  unreadably  reserved. 

"  Not  that  I've  been  a  saint,"  he  went  on.  "  We 
who  have  the  artistic  temperament —  What  does  that 
temperament  mean  but  abnormal  sensibility  of  nerves, 
all  the  nerves  ?  " 

"  That  is  true,"  assented  she. 

Then  she  was  not  so  cold  as  she  seemed!  She  un 
derstood  what  it  was  to  feel.  "  Of  course,"  he  pro- 

82 


NEVA    GOES    TO   SCHOOL 

ceeded,  "  I  appreciate  your  ideas  on  those  subjects.  At 
least  I  assume  you  have  the  ideas  of  the  people  among 
whom  you  were  brought  up." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she  said,  as  if 
she  were  carefully  choosing  her  words,  "  I've  learned 
that  standards  of  morals,  like  standards  of  taste,  are 
individual.  There  are  many  things  about  human 
nature  as  I  see  it  in — in  my  friends — that  I  do  not  un 
derstand.  But  I  realize  I  deserve  no  credit  for  being 
what  I  am  when  I  have  not  the  slightest  temptation  to 
be  otherwise." 

Silence  again,  as  he  wondered  whether  her  remark 
was  a  chance  shot  or  a  subtle  way  of  informing  him 
that,  if  he  were  thinking  of  her  as  a  woman  and  a  pos 
sibility,  he  was  wasting  energy.  "  What  I  wished  to 
say,"  he  finally  ventured,  "  was  that  I  had  the  right  to 
expect  you  to  accept  me  for  what  I  am  to  you.  You 
cannot  judge  of  what  I  may  or  may  not  have  been  to 
anyone  else,  of  what  others  may  or  may  not  have  been 
to  me." 

"  What  you  are  to  me,"  replied  she  earnestly, 
"  I've  no  right,  or  wish,  to  go  beyond  that." 

"  And,"  pursued  he  with  some  raillery,  "  don't  for 
get  we  should  be  grateful  for  all  varieties  of  human 
nature — the  valleys  that  make  the  peaks,  the  peaks  that 
make  the  abysses.  What  a  world  for  suicide  it  would 
be,  if  human  nature  were  one  vast  prairie  and  life  one 
long  Sunday  in  Battle  Field.  .  .  .  What  did  you  hear 
about  me  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  interested  me." 

"  Really  ?  "     He  could  not  help  showing  pique. 

"  Nothing  that  would  have  changed  me,  if  I  had 
believed." 

"  I  warned  you  it  might  be  true,"  he  interrupted. 
83 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  True  or  false,  it  was  not  part  of  the  Boris 
Raphael  I  admire  and  respect." 

He  shifted  his  eyes,  colored,  was  silenced.  He  did 
not  like  her  frank  friendliness ;  he  did  not  want  her  re 
spect,  or  the  sort  of  admiration  that  goes  with  respect. 
But  he  somehow  felt  cheap  and  mean  and  ashamed  be 
fore  her,  had  a  highly  uncomfortable  sense  of  being  an 
inferior  before  a  superior.  He  was  glad  to  drop  the 
subject.  "At  least,"  reflected  he,  "the  longer  the 
delay,  the  richer  the  prize.  She  was  meant  for  some 
man.  And  what  other  has  my  chance?" 

And,  meanwhile,  following  his  instinct  and  his  cus 
tom,  he  showed  her  of  his  all-sided  nature  only  what  he 
thought  she  would  like  to  see ;  time  enough  to  be  what 
he  wished,  when  he  should  have  got  her  where  he 
wished — a  re-creation  for  the  gratification  of  as  many 
sides  of  him  as  she  had,  or  developed,  capacity  to  de 
light. 


VII 


NARCISSE,  summoned  by  a  telephone  message,  went 
to  Fosdick's  house.  As  she  entered  the  imposing 
arched  entrance,  Amy  appeared,  on  the  way  to  take  her 
dog  for  a  drive.  "  It's  father  wants  to  see  you,"  said 
she.  "  I'll  take  you  to  him,  and  go.  I'd  send  Zut 
alone,  but  the  coachman  and  footman  object  to  driving 
the  carriage  with  no  one  but  him  in  it.  Fancy ! 
Aren't  some  people  too  silly  in  their  snobbishness — and 
the  upper  class  isn't  in  it  with  the  lower  classes,  is  it?  " 

"  You  don't  begin  to  know  how  amusing  you  are 
sometimes,"  said  Narcisse. 

"  Oh,  I'm  always  forgetting.  You've  got  ideas  like 
Armstrong.  You  know  him?  " 

"  I've  met  him,"  said  Narcisse  indifferently.  "  You 
say  your  father  wants  to  see  me?  " 

Amy  looked  disappointed.  Her  mind  was  full  of 
Armstrong,  and  she  wished  to  talk  about  him  with  Nar 
cisse,  to  tell  her  all  she  thought  and  felt,  or  thought 
she  thought  and  felt.  "  There's  been  a  good  deal  of 
talk  that  he  and  I  are  engaged,"  she  persisted.  "  You 
had  heard  it?" 

"  I  never  hear  things  of  that  sort,"  said  Narcisse 
coldly.  "  I'm  too  busy." 

"  Well — there's  nothing  in  it.  We're  simply 
friends." 

85 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Narcisse. 

Amy  bridled.  "  Sorry !  I'm  sure  /  care  nothing 
about  him." 

"  Then,  I'm  glad,"  said  Narcisse.  "  I'm  whatever 
you  like.  Is  your  father  waiting  for  me?  " 

Narcisse  liked  old  Fosdick — his  hearty  voice,  his 
sturdy  optimism,  his  genial  tolerance  of  all  human 
weaknesses,  even  of  crimes,  his  passion  for  the  best  of 
everything,  his  careless  generosity.  "  It's  fine,"  she 
often  thought,  "  to  see  a  man  act  about  his  own  hard- 
earned  wealth  as  if  he  had  found  it  in  a  lump  in  the 
street  or  had  won  it  in  a  lottery."  He  seemed  in  high 
spirits  that  morning,  though  Narcisse  observed  that  the 
lines  in  his  face  looked  heavier  than  usual.  "  Sorry  to 
drag  you  clear  up  here  about  such  a  little  matter,"  said 
he  when  they  two  were  seated,  with  his  big  table  desk 
between  them.  "  I  just  wanted  to  caution  you  and 
your  brother.  Quite  unnecessary,  I  know ;  still,  it's  my 
habit  to  neglect  nothing.  I'm  thinking  of  the  two 
buildings  you  are  putting  up  for  us — for  the  O.  A.  D. 
How  are  they  getting  on?  I've  so  much  to  attend  to,  I 
don't  often  get  round  to  details  I  know  are  in  per 
fectly  safe  hands." 

"  We  start  the  one  in  Chicago  next  month,  and  the 
one  here  in  May — I  hope." 

"  Good — splendid !  Rush  them  along.  You — you 
and  your  brother — understand  that  everything  about 
them  is  absolutely  private  business.  If  any  newspaper 
reporter — or  anybody — on  any  pretext  whatever — 
comes  nosing  round,  you  are  to  say  nothing.  What 
ever  is  given  out  about  them,  we'll  give  out  ourselves 
down  at  the  main  office." 

"  I'll  see  to  that,"  said  Narcisse.  "  I'm  glad  you 
are  cautioning  us.  We  might  have  given  out  some- 

86 


A    WOMAN'S   POINT   OF    VIEW 

thing.  Indeed,  now  that  I  think  of  it,  a  man  was  talk 
ing  with  my  brother  about  the  buildings  yesterday." 

Fosdick  leaned  forward  with  sudden  and  astonishing 
agitation.  "What  did  he  want?"  he  cried. 

"  Merely  some  specifications  as  to  the  cost  of  simi 
lar  buildings." 

"  Did  your  brother  give  him  what  he  asked  for?  " 
demanded  the  old  man. 

"  Not  yet.  I  believe  he's  to  get  the  figures  together 
and  give  them  to  him  to-morrow." 

Fosdick  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  and 
laughed  with  a  kind  of  savage  joy.  "  The  damned 
scoundrels !  "  he  exclaimed.  Then,  hastily,  "  Just  step 
to  the  telephone,  Miss  Siersdorf,  and  call  up  your 
brother  and  tell  him  on  no  account  to  give  that  infor 
mation." 

Narcisse  hesitated.  "  But — that's  a  very  common 
occurrence  in  our  business,"  objected  she.  "  I  don't 
see  how  we  can  refuse — unless  the  man  is  a  trifler.  Any 
one  who  is  building  likes  to  have  a  concrete  example  to 
go  by." 

"  Please  do  as  I  ask,  Miss  Siersdorf,"  said  Fosdick. 
"  We'll  discuss  it  afterwards." 

Narcisse  obeyed,  and  when  she  returned  said, 
"  My  brother  will  give  out  nothing  more.  But  I  find 
I  was  mistaken.  He  gave  the  estimates  yesterday 
afternoon." 

Fosdick  sank  back  in  his  chair,  his  features  con 
tracted  in  anger  and  anxiety.  When  she  tried  to  speak, 
he  waved  her  imperiously  into  silence.  "  I  must  think," 
he  said  curtly.  "  Don't  interrupt !  "  She  watched  his 
face,  but  could  make  nothing  definite  of  its  vague  re 
flections  of  his  apparently  dark  and  stormy  thoughts. 
Finally  he  said,  in  a  nearer  approach  to  his  usual  tone 

87 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

and  manner,  "  It's  soon  remedied.  Your  brother  can 
send  for  the  man.  You  know  who  he  was  ?  " 

"  His  name  was  Delmar.  He  represented  the  How- 
lands,  the  Chicago  drygoods  people." 

"  Um,"  grunted  Fosdick,  reflecting  again ;  then,  as 
if  he  had  found  what  he  was  searching  for,  "  Yes — 
that's  the  trail.  Well,  Miss  Siersdorf ,  as  I  was  saying, 
your  brother  will  send  for  Delmar  and  will  tell  him 
there  was  a  mistake.  And  he'll  give  him  another 
set  of  figures — say,  doubling  or  trebling  the  first 
set.  He'll  say  he  neglected  to  make  allowance  for  finer 
materials  and  details  of  stonework  and  woodwork — 
hardwood  floors,  marble  from  Italy,  and  so  forth  and  so 
forth.  You  understand.  He'll  say  he  meant  simply 
the  ordinary  first-rate  office  building — and  wasn't  cal 
culating  on  such  palaces  as  he's  putting  up  for  the 
O.  A.  D." 

Narcisse  sat  straight  and  silent,  staring  into  her 
lap.  Fosdick's  cigar  had  gone  out.  She  had  never 
before  objected  especially  to  its  odor;  now  she  found  it 
almost  insupportable. 

"  You'd  better  telephone  him,"  continued  Fosdick. 
"  No — I'll  just  have  the  butler  telephone  him  to  come 
up  here.  We  might  as  well  make  sure  of  getting  it 
straight."- 

Narcisse  did  not  stir  while  Fosdick  was  out  of  the 
room,  nor  when  he  resumed  his  seat  and  went  on,  "  All 
this  is  too  intricate  to  explain  in  detail,  Miss  Siersdorf, 
but  I'll  give  you  an  idea  of  it.  It's  a  question  of  the 
secrecy  of  our  accounts." 

"  But  we  know  nothing  of  your  company's  accounts, 
Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  she.  "  You  will  remember  that, 
under  our  contracts,  we  have  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  bills — that  they  go  direct  to  your  own  people 

88 


A    WOMAN'S   POINT   OF    VIEW 

and  are  paid  by  them.  We  warned  you  it  was  a  dan 
gerous  system,  but  you  insisted  on  keeping  to  it.  You 
said  it  was  your  long  established  way,  that  a  change 
would  upset  your  whole  bookkeeping,  that " 

"  Yes — yes.  I  remember  perfectly,"  interrupted 
Fosdick,  all  good  humor. 

"  You  can't  hold  us  responsible.  We  don't  even 
know  what  payments  have  been  made." 

"  Precisely — precisely." 

"  It's  a  stupid  system,  permit  me  to  say.  It  allows 
chances  for  no  end  of  fraud  on  you — though  I  think  the 
people  we  employed  are  honest  and  won't  take  advantage 
of  it.  And,  if  your  auditors  wanted  to,  they  could 
charge  the  company  twice  or  three  times  or  several  times 
what  the  building  cost,  and " 

"  Exactly,"  interrupted  Fosdick,  an  unpleasant 
sharpness  in  his  voice.  "  Let's  not  waste  time  discuss 
ing  that.  Let  me  proceed.  We  wish  no  one  to  know 
what  our  buildings  cost." 

"  But — you  have  to  make  reports — to  your  stock 
holders — policy  holders  rather." 

"  In  a  way — yes,"  admitted  Fosdick.  "  But  all  the 
men  who  have  the  direction  and  control  of  large  enter 
prises  take  a  certain  latitude.  The  average  citizen  is  a 
picayunish  fellow,  mean  about  small  sums.  He  wouldn't 
understand  many  of  the  expenditures  necessary  to  the 
conduct  of  large  affairs.  He  even  prefers  not  to  be 
irritated  by  knowing  just  where  every  dollar  goes. 
He's  satisfied  with  the  results." 

"  But  how  does  he  know  the  results  shown  him  are 
the  real  results?  Why,  under  that  system,  figures 
might  be  juggled  to  cheat  him  out  of  nearly  all  the 
profits." 

"  The  public  is  satisfied  to  get  a  reasonable  return 
7  89 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

for   the  money  it   invests — and   we   always    guarantee 
that,"  replied  Fosdick  grandly. 

Narcisse  looked  at  him  with  startled  eyes,  as  if  a 
sharp  turn  of  the  road  had  brought  her  to  the  brink  of 
a  yawning  abyss.  It  suddenly  dawned  on  her — the 
whole  system  of  "  finance."  In  one  swift  second  a 
thousand  disconnected  facts  merged  into  a  complete,  re 
pulsive  whole.  So,  this  was  where  these  enormous  for 
tunes  came  from !  The  big  fellows  inveigled  the  public 
into  enterprises  by  promises  of  equal  shares ;  then  they 
juggled  accounts,  stole  most  of  the  profits,  saddled  all 
the  losses  on  the  investors.  And  she  had  admired  the 
daring  of  these  great  financiers !  Why,  who  wouldn't 
be  daring,  with  no  conscience,  no  honor,  and  a  free  hand 
to  gamble  with  other  people's  money,  without  risking  a 
penny  of  his  own!  And  she  had  admired  their  gener 
osity,  their  philanthropy,  when  it  was  simply  the  reck 
less  wastefulness  of  the  thief,  after  one  rich  haul  and 
before  another!  She  saw  them,  all  over  the  world, 
gathering  in  the  mites  of  toiling  millions  as  trust 
funds,  and  stealing  all  but  enough  to  encourage  the 
poor  fools  to  continue  sending  in  their  mites  !  She  read 
it  all  in  Josiah's  face  now,  in  the  faces  of  her  rich 
clients;  and  she  wondered  how  she  could  have  been  so 
blind  as  not  to  see  it  before.  That  hungry  look,  some 
times  frankly  there,  again  disguised  by  a  slimy  over- 
layer  of  piety,  again  by  whiskers  or  fat,  but  always 
there.  Face  after  face  of  her  scores  of  acquaintances 
among  the  powerful  in  finance  rose  beside  Josiah's  until 
she  shrank  and  paled.  Under  the  slather  of  respecta 
bility,  what  gross  appetites,  what  repulsive  passions ! 
But  for  the  absence  of  the  brutal  bruisings  of  igno 
rance  and  drink,  these  facts  would  seem  exhibits  in  a 
rogues'  gallery. 

90 


A    WOMAN'S   POINT   OF    VIEW 

Josiah  had  no  great  opinion  of  the  brains  of  his 
fellow  men.  Women  he  regarded  as  mentally  defi 
cient — were  they  not  incapable  of  comprehending  busi 
ness  ?  So,  while  he  saw  that  Narcisse  was  not  accepting 
his  statement  as  the  honorable,  though  practical,  truth 
he  believed  it  to  be,  he  was  not  disturbed.  "  I  see  you 
don't  quite  follow  me,"  he  said  with  kindly  condescen 
sion.  "  Business  is  very  complex.  My  point  is,  how 
ever,  that  our  accounts  are  for  our  own  guidance,  and 
not  for  our  rivals  to  get  hold  of  and  use  in  exciting  a 
lot  of  silly,  ignorant  people." 

Alois  Siersdorf  now  entered  and  was  effusively  wel 
comed.  "  What's  the  matter?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Have 
I  made  a  mess  of  some  sort  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  my  boy,"  said  Fosdick,  clapping  him 
on  the  back.  "  Our  rivals  have  got  up  an  investigating 
committee — have  set  on  some  of  our  policy  holders  to 
pretend  to  be  dissatisfied  with  our  management.  I 
thought  until  yesterday  that  the  committee  was  simply 
a  haphazard  affair,  got  together  by  some  blackmailing 
lawyer.  Then  I  learned  that  it  was  a  really  serious  at 
tempt  of  a  rival  of  mine  to  take  the  company  away 
from  me.  They're  smelling  round  for  things  to 
6  expose ' — the  old  trick.  They  think  this  is  a  rare 
good  time  to  play  it  because  the  damn-fool  public  has 
been  liquored  up  with  all  sorts  of  brandy  by  reformers 
and  anarchists  and  socialists,  trying  to  set  it  on  to  tear 
down  the  social  structure.  No  man's  reputation  is 
safe.  You  know  how  it  is  in  big  affairs.  It  takes  a 
broad-gage  man  to  understand  them.  A  little  fellow 
thinks  he  sees  thief  and  robber  and  swindler  written 
everywhere,  if  he  gets  a  peep  at  the  inside.  I  don't 
know  what  we're  coming  to,  with  the  masses  being  edu 
cated  just  enough  to  imagine  they  know,  and  to  try  to 

91 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

take  the  management  of  affairs  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
substantial  men." 

With  lip  curling  Narcisse  looked  at  her  brother, 
expecting  to  see  in  his  face  some  sign  of  appreciation 
of  the  disgusting  comedy  of  Fosdick's  cant;  but  he 
seemed  to  be  taking  Josiah  and  his  oration  quite  seri 
ously  ;  to  her  amazement  he  said,  "  I  often  think  of  that, 
Mr.  Fosdick.  We  must  have  a  stronger  government, 
and  abolish  universal  suffrage.  This  thing  of  ignorant 
men,  with  no  respect  for  the  class  with  brains  and 
property,  having  an  equal  voice  with  us  has  got  to  stop 
or  we'll  have  ruin." 

A  self-confessed  thief  trying  to  justify  himself  by 
slandering  those  he  had  robbed,  and  angry  with  them 
because  they  were  not  grateful  to  him  for  not  having 
taken  all  their  property — and  her  brother  applauding ! 

"  You're  right,"  said  Fosdick,  clapping  him  on  the 
knee.  "  I've  been  trying  to  explain  to  your  sister — 
though  I'm  afraid  I  don't  make  myself  clear.  The 
ladies — even  the  smartest  of  them — are  not  very  at 
tentive  when  we  men  talk  of  the  business  side  of  things. 
However,  I  suggested  to  her  that  you  recall  those  speci 
fications  you  gave  my  enemies " 

"  Is  it  possible !  "  exclaimed  Siersdorf ,  shocked. 
"  Yes — yes — I  see — I  understand.  But  I  can  straight 
en  it  all  out.  I  was  rather  vague  with  Delmar.  I'll 
send  for  him  and  tell  him  I  was  calculating  on  very  dif 
ferent  kinds  of  buildings  for  him — something  much 
cheaper " 

"  Precisely !  "  cried  Josiah.  "  Your  brother's  got 
a  quick  mind,  Miss  Siersdorf." 

Narcisse  turned  away.  Her  brother  had  not  even 
waited  for  Fosdick  to  unfold  his  miserable  chicane ;  his 
own  brain  had  instantly  worked  out  the  same  idea ;  and, 

92 


A    WOMAN'S   POINT   OF    VIEW 

instead  of  in  shame  suppressing  it,  he  had  uttered  it  as 
if  it  were  honest  and  honorable ! 

"  There's  another  matter,"  continued  Fosdick.  He 
no  longer  felt  that  he  must  advance  cautiously.  Some 
times,  persons  not  familiar  with  large  affairs,  not  ac 
customed  to  dealing  under  the  conditions  that  compel 
liberal  interpretation  of  the  moral  code,  had  been  known 
to  balk,  unless  approached  gradually,  unless  led  by 
gentle  stages  above  narrow  ideas  of  the  just  and  the 
right.  But  clearly,  the  Siersdorfs,  living  in  the  atmos 
phere  of  high  finance,  did  not  need  to  be  acclimated. 
"  It  may  be  this  committee  can  get  permission  from  the 
State  Government  to  pry  into  our  affairs.  I  don't 
think  it  can ;  indeed,  I  almost  know  it  can't ;  we've  got 
the  Government  friendly  to  us  and  not  at  all  sym 
pathetic  with  these  plausible  blackmailers  and  disguised 
anarchists.  Still,  it's  always  well  to  provide  for  any 
contingency.  If  you  should  get  a  tip  that  you  were 
likely  to  be  wanted  as  witnesses  you  could  arrange  for 
a  few  weeks  abroad,  and  not  leave  anything — any  books 
or  papers — for  these  scoundrels  to  nose  into,  couldn't 
you?" 

"  Certainly,"  assented  Siersdorf,  with  great  alac 
rity.  "  You  may  be  sure  they'll  get  nothing  out 
of  us." 

"  Then,  that's  settled,"  said  Fosdick.  "  And  now, 
let's  have  lunch,  and  forget  business.  I  want  to  hear 
more  about  those  plans  for  Amy's  house  down  in  Jersey. 
She  has  told  me  a  good  deal,  but  not  all." 

"  We  can't  stop  to  lunch,"  interposed  Narcisse, 
with  a  meaning  look  at  her  brother.  "  We  must  go 
back  to  the  office  at  once."  And  when  she  saw  that 
Fosdick  was  getting  ready  for  a  handshake,  she  moved 
toward  the  door,  keeping  out  of  his  range  without 

93 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

pointedly  showing  what  she  was  about.  In  the  street 
with  her  brother  she  walked  silently,  moodily  beside 
him,  selecting  the  softest  words  that  would  honestly  ex 
press  the  thoughts  she  felt  she  must  not  conceal  from 
him. 

"  A  great  man,  Fosdick,"  said  Alois.  "  One  of  the 
biggest  men  in  the  country — a  splendid  character, 
strong,  able  and  honorable." 

"Why  do  you  say  that  just  at  this  time?"  asked 
his  sister. 

Alois  reddened  a  little,  avoided  meeting  her  glance. 

"  To  convince  yourself  ?  "  she  went  on.  "  To  make 
us  seem  less — less  dishonest  and  cowardly  ?  " 

He  flashed  at  her ;  his  anger  was  suspiciously  ready. 
<c  I  felt  you  were  taking  that  view  of  it !  "  he  cried. 
<c  You  are  utterly  unpractical.  You  want  to  run  the 
world  by  copybook  morality." 

"  Because  I  haven't  thrown  *  Thou  shalt  not  steal ' 
overboard?  Because  I  am  ashamed,  Alois,  that  we  are 
helping  this  man  Fosdick  to  cover  his  cowardly  thief 
tracks?" 

"  You  don't  understand,  Cissy,"  he  remonstrated, 
posing  energetically  as  the  superior  male  forbearing 
with  the  inferior  female.  "  You  oughtn't  to  judge 
what  you  haven't  the  knowledge  to  judge  correctly." 

"  He  is  a  thief,"  retorted  she  bluntly.  "  And  we 
are  making  ourselves  his  accomplices." 

Alois's  smile  was  uncomfortable.  With  the  man 
ner  of  a  man  near  the  limit  of  patience  with  folly,  he 
explained,  "  What  you  are  giving  those  lurid  names  to 
is  nothing  but  the  ordinary  routine  of  business, 
throughout  the  world.  Do  you  suppose  the  man  of 
great  financial  intellect  would  do  the  work  he  does  for 
small  wages?  Do  you  imagine  the  little  people  he 

94 


A    WOMAN'S   POINT   OF    VIEW 

works  for  and  has  to  work  through,  the  beneficiaries  of 
all  those  giant  enterprises,  would  give  him  his  just  due 
voluntarily  ?  He's  a  man  of  affairs,  and  he  works  prac 
tically,  deals  with  human  nature  on  human  principles 
— just  as  do  all  the  great  men  of  action." 

Narcisse  stopped  short,  gazed  at  him  in  amazement. 
"  Alois !  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  disregarded  her  rebuke,  her  reminder  of  the  time 
when  he  had  thought  and  talked  very  differently. 
"  Suppose,"  he  persisted,  "  these  great  fortunes  didn't 
exist ;  suppose  Fosdick  were  ass  enough  to  take  a  salary 
and  divide  up  the  profits ;  suppose  all  these  people  of 
wealth  we  work  for  were  to  be  honest  according  to  your 
definition  of  the  word — what  then?  Why,  millions  of 
people  would  get  ten  or  twelve  dollars  a  year,  or  some 
thing  like  that,  more  than  they  now  have,  and  there'd 
be  no  great  fortunes  to  encourage  art,  to  employ  people 
like  us,  to  endow  colleges  and  make  the  higher  and  more 
beautiful  side  of  life." 

"  That's  too  shallow  to  answer,"  said  Narcisse 
sternly.  "  You  know  better,  Alois.  You  know  it's 
from  the  poor  that  intellect  and  art  and  all  that's  gen 
uine  and  great  and  progressive  come — never  from  the 
rich,  from  wealth.  But  even  if  it  were  not  so,  how  can. 
you  defend  anything  that  means  a  sacrifice  of  charac 
ter  ?  "  She  stopped  in  the  street  and  looked  at  him- 
"  Alois,  what  has  changed  you?  " 

"  Come,"  he  urged  rather  shamefacedly.  "  People 
are  watching  us." 

They  went  on  in  silence,  separated  at  the  offices  with 
a  few  constrained  words.  They  did  not  meet  again 
until  the  next  morning — when  he  sought  her.  He 
looked  much  as  usual — fresh,  handsome,  supple  in  body 
and  mind.  Her  eyes  were  red  round  the  edges  of  the 

95 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

lids  and  her  usually  healthy  skin  had  the  paleness  that 
comes  from  a  sleepless  night.  "  Well,"  he  said,  with 
his  sweet,  conciliatory  smile — he  had  a  perfect  disposi 
tion,  while  hers  was  often  "  difficult."  "  Do  you  still 
think  I'm  wrong — and  desperately  wicked  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  changed  my  mind,"  she  answered,  avoid 
ing  his  gaze. 

He  frowned;  his  face  showed  the  obstinacy  that 
passes  current  for  will  in  a  world  of  vacillators. 

"  You've  always  left  business  to  me,"  he  went  on. 
"  Just  continue  to  leave  it.  Rest  assured  I'll  do  noth 
ing  to  injure  my  honor  in  the  opinion  of  any  rational, 
practical  person — or  the  honor  of  the  firm." 

She  was  not  deceived  by  the  note  of  conciliation  in 
his  voice ;  she  knew  he  had  his  mind  fixed.  She  was  at 
her  desk,  stiffly  erect,  gazing  straight  ahead.  Her  ex 
pression  brought  out  all  the  character  in  her  features, 
brought  out  that  beauty  of  feminine  strength  which 
the  best  of  the  Greeks  have  succeeded  in  giving  their 
sculptured  heroines.  Without  warning  she  flung  her 
self  forward,  hid  her  face  and  burst  into  tears.  "  Oh, 
I  hate  myself ! "  she  cried.  "  I'm  nothing  but  a  wom 
an,  after  all — miserable,  contemptible,  weak  creatures 
that  we  are !  " 

He  settled  himself  on  the  arm  of  her  chair  and  drew 
her  into  his  arm.  "  You're  a  finer  person  in  every  way 
than  I  am,"  he  said ;  "  a  better  brain  and  a  better  char 
acter.  But,  Cissy  dear,  don't  judge  in  matters  that 
aren't  within  your  scope." 

"  Do  as  you  please,"  she  replied  brokenly.  "  I'm  a 
woman — and  where's  the  woman  that  wouldn't  sacrifice 
anything  and  everything  for  love?  " 

She  had,  indeed,  spent  a  night  of  horror.  She  felt 
that  what  he  had  done  was  frightful  dishonor — was 

96 


A    WOMAN'S   POINT   OF    VIEW" 

proof  that  he  was  losing  his  moral  sense  and,  what 
seemed  to  her  worse,  becoming  a  pander  to  the  class  for 
which  they  did  most  of  the  work  they  especially  prided 
themselves  upon.  She  felt  that,  for  his  sake  no  less 
than  for  her  own,  she  ought  to  join  the  issue  squarely 
and  force  him  to  choose  the  right  road,  or  herself  go 
on  in  it  alone.  But  she  knew  that  he  would  let  her  go. 
And  she  had  only  him.  She  loved  him ;  she  would  not 
break  with  him ;  she  could  not. 

"  You  know  nothing  about  those  buildings,  any 
how,"  he  continued.  "  Just  forget  the  whole  business. 
I'll  take  care  of  it.  Isn't  that  fair?  " 

"  Anything !  Anything  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  Only,  let 
there  be  peace  and  love  between  us." 


97 


VIII 


IN   NEVA  S   STUDIO 

SHOWN  into  the  big  workroom  of  Neva's  apart 
ment  with  its  light  softened  and  diffused  by  skillfully 
adjusted  curtains  and  screens,  Narcisse  devoted  the  few 
minutes  before  Neva  came  to  that  thorough  inspection 
which  an  intelligent  workman  always  gives  the  habitat 
of  a  fellow  worker. 

"  What  a  sensitive  creature  she  is ! "  was  the  remi 
niscent  conclusion  of  the  builder  after  the  first  glance 
round.  A  less  keen  observer  might  have  detected  a 
nature  as  delicately  balanced  as  an  aspen  leaf  in  the 
subtle  appreciation  of  harmony  and  contrast,  of  light 
and  shade.  And  there  were  none  of  the  showy,  shallow 
tricks  of  the  poseur ;  for,  the  room  was  plain,  as  a  seri 
ous  worker  always  insists  on  having  his  surroundings. 
It  appeared  in  the  hanging  of  the  few  pictures,  in  the 
colors  of  the  few  rugs  and  draperies,  of  walls,  ceiling, 
furniture,  in  the  absence  of  anything  that  was  not 
pleasing;  the  things  that  are  not  in  a  room  speak  as 
eloquently  of  its  tenant  as  do  the  things  that  are 
there. 

"  Not  a  scrap  of  her  own  work,"  thought  Narcisse, 
with  a  smile  for  the  shyness  that  omission  hinted. 

"  Pardon  my  keeping  you  waiting,"  apologized 
Neva,  entering  in  her  long,  brown  blouse  with  stains  of 
paint.  "  I  was  at  work  when  you  were  announced." 

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IN   NEVA'S   STUDIO 


"  And  you  had  to  hustle  everything  out  of  sight,  so 
I'd  have  no  chance  to  see." 

Neva  nodded  smiling  assent.  "  But  I'm  better  than 
I  used  to  be.  Really,  I  am.  My  point  of  view  is 
changing — rapidly — so  rapidly  that  I  wake  up  each 
morning  a  different  person  from  the  one  who  went  to 
bed  the  night  before." 

Narcisse  was  thinking  that  the  Neva  before  her  was 
as  unlike  the  Neva  of  their  school  days  as  a  spring  land 
scape  is  unlike  the  same  stretch  in  the  bleak  monotones 
of  winter.  "Getting  more  confidence  in  yourself?" 
suggested  she  aloud.  "  Or  are  you  beginning  to  see 
that  the  world  is  an  old  fraud  whose  judgments  aren't 
important  enough  to  make  anyone  nervous?  " 

"Both,"  replied  Neva.  "But  I  can't  honestly 
claim  to  be  self-made-over.  Boris  teaches  me  a  great 
deal  beside  painting." 

Narcisse  changed  expression.  As  they  talked  on 
and  on — of  their  work,  of  the  West,  of  the  college  and 
their  friendship  there,  Neva  felt  that  Narcisse  had  some 
undercurrent  of  thought  which  she  was  striving  with, 
whether  to  suppress  or  express,  she  could  not  tell. 
The  conversation  drifted  back  to  New  York,  to  Boris. 
There  was  something  of  warning  in  Narcisse's  face,  and 
something  of  another  emotion  less  clearly  defined  as  she 
said  with  a  brave  effort  at  the  rigidly  judicial,  "  Boris 
is  a  great  man ;  but  first  of  all  a  man.  You  know  what 
that  means  when  a  man  is  dealing  with  a  woman." 

Neva's  lip  curled  slightly.  "  That  side  of  human 
nature  doesn't  interest  me." 

Narcisse,  watching  her  closely,  could  not  but  be 
convinced  that  the  indifference  in  her  tone  was  not  simu 
lated.  "  Not  yet,"  she  thought.  Then,  aloud,  "  That 
side  doesn't  often  interest  a  woman  until  she  finds  she 

99 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

must  choose  between  becoming  interested  in  it  and  los 
ing  the  man  altogether." 

Neva  looked  at  her  with  a  strange,  startled  expres 
sion,  as  if  she  were  absorbing  a  new  and  vital  truth, 
self-evident,  astonishing. 

"  Boris  has  lived  a  long  time,"  continued  Narcisse. 
"  And  women  have  conquered  him  so  often  that  they've 
taught  him  how  to  conquer  them." 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  him,  beyond  the  paint 
ing,"  said  Neva.  "  And  I  don't  care  to  know." 

The  silence  that  fell  was  constrained.  It  was  with 
tone  and  look  of  shyness  more  like  Neva  than  like  her 
self  that  Narcisse  presently  went  on,  "  I  owe  a  great 
deal  to  Boris.  He  made  me  what  I  am.  .  .  .  He 
broke  my  heart." 

Neva  gave  her  a  glance  of  wonder  and  fear — won 
der  that  she  should  be  confiding  such  a  secret,  fear  lest 
the  confidence  would  be  repented.  Narcisse's  expres 
sion,  pensive  but  by  no  means  tragic,  not  even  melan 
choly,  reassured  her.  "  You  know,"  she  proceeded, 
"  no  one  ever  does  anything  real  until  his  or  her  heart 
has  been  broken." 

Neva,  startled,  listened  with  curious,  breathless  in- 
tentness. 

"  We  learn  only  by  experience.  And  the  great  les 
son  comes  only  from  the  great  experience." 

"  Yes,"  said  Neva  softly.  She  nodded  absently. 
"  Yes,"  she  repeated. 

"  When  one's  heart  is  broken  .  .  .  then,  one  dis 
covers  one's  real  self — the  part  that  can  be  relied  on 
through  everything  and  anything." 

Neva,  with  studied  carelessness,  opened  a  drawer  in 
the  stand  beside  her  and  began  to  examine  the  tips  of  a 
handful  of  brushes.  Her  face  was  thus  no  longer  com- 

100 


IN   NEVA'S   STUDIO 


pletely  at  the  mercy  of  a  possible  searching  glance  from 
her  friend. 

"  Show  me  anyone  who  has  done  anything  worth 
while,"  continued  Narcisse,  "  and  I'll  show  you  a  man 
or  a  woman  whose  heart  has  been  broken — and  mended 
— made  strong.  ...  It  isn't  always  love  that  does  the 
breaking.  In  fact,  it's  usually  something  else — espe 
cially  with  men.  In  my  case  it  happened  to  be  love." 

Neva's  fingers  had  ceased  to  play  with  the  brushes. 
Her  hands  rested  upon  the  edge  of  the  drawer  lightly, 
yet  their  expression  was  somehow  tense.  Her  eyes  were 
gazing  into —  Narcisse  wondered  what  vision  was 
hypnotizing  them. 

"  It  was  ten  years  ago — when  I  was  studying  in 
Paris.  I  can  see  how  he  might  not  be  attractive  to 
some  women,  but  he  was  to  me."  Narcisse  laughed 
slightly.  "  I  don't  know  what  might  have  happened,  if 
he  hadn't  been  drawn  away  by  a  little  Roumanian  sing 
er,  like  an  orchid  waving  in  a  perfumed  breeze.  All 
Paris  was  quite  mad  about  her,  and  Boris  got  her.  She 
thought  she  got  him ;  but  he  survived,  while  she — 
When  she  made  her  way  back  to  Paris,  she  found  it 
perfectly  calm." 

"  And  you  still  care  for  him  ?  "  said  Neva  gently. 

Narcisse  laughed  healthily.  "  I  mended  my  heart, 
accepted  my  lesson.  .  .  .  Isn't  it  queer,  how  dif 
ferently  one  looks  at  a  person  one  has  cared  for,  after 
one  is  cured  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Neva,  in  a  slow,  constrained 
way.  "  I've  never  had  the  experience."  • 

After  a  silence  Narcisse  went  on,  "  I've  no  objection 
to  your  repeating  to  him  what  I've  said.  It  was  a  mere 
reminiscence,  not  at  all  a  confession." 

Neva  shook  her  head.  "  That  would  bring  up  a 
101 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

subject  a  woman  should  avoid  with  men.  If  it  is  never 
opened,  it  remains  closed ;  if  it's  ever  opened,  it  can't  be 
shut  again." 

Narcisse  was  struck  by  the  penetration  of  this,  and 
proceeded  to  reexamine  Neva  more  thoroughly.  Noth 
ing  is  more  neglected  than  the  revision  from  time  to 
time  of  our  opinions  of  those  about  us.  Though  char 
acter  is  as  mobile  as  every  other  quantity  in  this 
whirling  kaleidoscope  of  a  universe,  we  make  up  our 
minds  about  our  acquaintances  and  friends  once  for  all, 
and  refuse  to  change  unless  forced  by  some  cataclysm. 
As  their  talk  unfolded  the  Neva  beneath  the  surface,  it 
soon  appeared  to  Narcisse  that  either  she  or  Neva  had 
become  radically  different  since  their  intimacy  of  twelve 
years  before.  "  Probably  both  of  us,"  she  decided. 
"  I've  learned  to  read  character  better,  and  she  has  more 
character  to  read.  I  remember,  I  used  to  think  she 
was  one  of  those  who  would  develop  late — even  for  a 
woman." 

"  It  was  stupid  of  me,"  she  said  to  Neva,  "  but  I've 
been  assuming  you  are  just  as  you  were.  Now  it  dawns 
on  me  that  you  are  as  new  to  me  as  if  you  were  an  entire 
stranger.  You  are  different — outside  and  inside." 

"  Inside,  I've  certainly  changed,"  admitted  Neva. 
"  Don't  you  think  we're,  all  of  us,  like  the  animals  that 
shed  their  skins?  We  live  in  a  mental  skin,  and  it 
seems  to  be  ours  for  good  and  all;  but  all  the  time  a 
new  skin  is  forming  underneath;  and  then,  some  fine 
day,  the  old  skin  slips  away,  and  we're  quite  new  from 
top  to  tip — apparently." 

Narcisse's  expression  was  encouraging. 

"  That  happened  to  me,"  continued  Neva.  "  But  I 
didn't  realize  it — not  completely — until  the  divorce  was 
over  and  I  was  settled  here,  in  this  huge  wilderness 

102 


IN   NEVA'S   STUDIO 


where  the  people  can't  find  each  other  or  even  see  each 
other,  for  the  crowd.  It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life.  I 
could  look  about  me  with  the  certainty  I  wasn't  being 
watched,  peeped  at,  pressed  in  on  all  sides  by  curious 
eyes — hostile  eyes,  for  all  curious  eyes  are  hostile. 
But  you  were  born  and  brought  up  in  a  small  town. 
You  know." 

"  Yes,"  said  Narcisse.  "  Everybody  lives  a  public 
life  in  a  little  town." 

"  Here  I  could,  so  to  speak,  stand  in  the  sun  naked 
and  let  its  light  beat  on  my  body,  without  fear  of 
peepers  and  pryers."  She  drew  a  long  breath  and 
stretched  out  her  arms  in  a  gesture  of  enormous  relief. 
"  I  dare  to  be  myself.  Free !  All  my  life  I'd  been  shut 
in,  waiting  and  hoping  some  one  would  come  and  lead 
me  out  where  there  was  warmth  and  affection.  Wasn't 
that  vanity !  Now,  I'm  seeking  what  I  want — the  only 
way  to  get  it." 

Narcisse's  face  took  on  an  expression  of  cynicism, 
melancholy  rather  than  bitter.  "  Don't  seek  among 
your  fellow  beings.  They're  always  off  the  right  tem 
perature — they  either  burn  you  or  freeze  you." 

"  Oh,  but  I'm  not  trying  to  get  warmth,  but  to  give 
it,"  replied  Neva.  "  I'm  not  merchandising.  I'm  in  a 
business  where  the  losses  are  the  profits,  the  givings  the 
gains." 

"  The  only  businesses  that  really  pay,"  said  Nar 
cisse.  "  The  returns  from  the  others  are  like  the  magi 
cian's  money  that  seemed  to  be  gold  but  was  only  with 
ered  mulberry  leaves.  Won't  you  let  me  see  some  of 
your  work — anything  ?  " 

Neva  drew  aside  a  curtain,  wheeled  out  an  easel,  on 
it  her  unfinished  portrait  of  Raphael.  At  first  glance 
— and  with  most  people  the  first  glance  is  the  final 

103 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

verdict — there  seemed  only  an  elusive  resemblance  to 
Raphael.  It  was  one  of  those  portraits  that  are  forth 
with  condemned  as  "  poor  likenesses."  But  Narcisse, 
perhaps  partly  because  she  was  sympathetically  inter 
ested  in  Neva's  work  and  knew  thajb  Neva  must  put  in 
telligence  into  whatever  she  did,  soon  penetrated  to  the 
deeper  purpose.  The  human  face  is  both  a  medium  and 
a  mask ;  it  both  reveals  and  covers  the  personality  be 
hind.  It  is  more  the  mask  and  less  the  medium  when 
the  personality  is  consciously  facing  the  world.  A  por 
trait  that  is  a  good  likeness  is,  thus,  often  a  meaningless 
or  misleading  picture  of  the  personality,  because  it  pre 
sents  that  personality  when  carefully  posed  for  con 
scious  inspection.  On  the  other  hand,  a  portrait  that 
is  hardly  recognizable  by  those  who  know  best,  and 
least,  the  person  it  purports  to  portray,  may  be  in  fact 
a  true,  a  profound,  a  perfect  likeness — a  faithful  re 
production  of  the  face  as  a  medium,  with  the  mask  dis 
carded.  The  problem  the  painter  attempts,  the  prob 
lem  genius  occasionally  solves  but  mere  talent  rarely, 
and  then  imperfectly,  is  to  combine  the  medium  and  the 
mask — to  paint  the  mask  so  transparently  that  the  me 
dium,  the  real  face,  shows  through;  yet  not  so  trans 
parently  that  eyes  which  demand  a  "  speaking  like 
ness  "  are  disappointed. 

Neva,  taught  by  Raphael  to  face  and  wrestle  with 
that  problem,  was  in  this  secret  unfinished  portrait 
striving  for  his  "living  likeness"  only.  She  had  learned 
that  painting  the  "  speaking  likeness  "  is  an  unimpor 
tant  matter  to  the  artist  as  artist — however  important 
it  may  be  to  him  as  seeker  of  profitable  orders  or  of 
fame's  brassy  acclaim  so  vulgar  yet  so  sweet.  She  was 
not  seeking  fame,  she  was  not  dependent  upon  commis 
sions  ;  she  was  free  to  grapple  the  ultimate  mystery  of 

104 


IN   NEVA'S   STUDIO 


art.  And  this  attempt  to  fix  Raphael,  the  beautiful- 
ugly,  lofty-low,  fine-coarse,  kind-cruel  personality  that 
walked  the  earth  behind  that  gorgeous-grotesque  ex 
ternal  of  his,  was  her  first  essay. 

"  All  things  to  all  men — and  all  women,  like  the 
genius  that  he  is,"  said  Narcisse,  half  to  herself.  Then 
to  Neva,  "  What  does  he  think  of  it?  " 

"  He  hasn't  seen  it.  ...  I  doubt  if  I'll  ever  show 
it  to  him — or  to  anybody,  when  it's  finished." 

"  It  does  threaten  to  be  an  intrusion  on  his  right  of 
privacy,"  said  Narcisse.  "  No,  he's  not  attracting  you 
in  the  least  as  a  man." 

Neva  looked  amused.     "  Why  did  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Because  the  picture  is  so — so  impersonal."  She 
laughed.  "  How  angry  it  would  make  him." 

When  Narcisse,  after  a  long,  intimacy-renewing, 
or,  rather,  intimacy-beginning,  stop,  rose  to  go,  she 
said,  "  I'm  going  to  bring  my  friend,  Amy  Fosdick, 
here  some  time  soon.  She  has  asked  me  and  I've  prom 
ised  her.  She  is  very  eager  to  meet  you." 

Instantly  Neva  made  the  first  vivid  show  of  her  old- 
time  shy  constraint.  "  I've  a  rule  against  meeting 
people,"  stammered  she.  "  I  don't  wish  to  seem  ungra 
cious,  but " 

"  Oh !  "  said  Narcisse,  embarrassed.     "  Very  well." 

An  awkward  silence ;  Narcisse  moved  toward  the 
door.  "  I  fear  I've  offended  you,"  Neva  said  wistfully. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Narcisse,  and  she  honestly 
tried  to  be  cordial  in  accepting  denial.  "  You've  the 
right  to  do  as  you  please,  surely." 

"  In  theory,  yes,"  said  Neva,  with  a  faint  melan 
choly  smile.  "  But  only  in  theory." 

Now  unconsciously  and  now  consciously  we  are  con 
stantly  testing  those  about  us,  especially  our  friends,  to 
8  105 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

learn  how  far  we  can  go  in  imposing  our  ever  aggressive 
wills  upon  them ;  and  the  stronger  our  own  personalities 
the  more  irritating  it  is  to  find  ourselves  flung  back 
from  an  unyielding  surface  where  we  had  expected  to 
advance  easily.  In  spite  of  her  sense  of  justice,  Nar- 
cisse  was  irritated  against  Neva  for  refusing.  But  she 
also  realized  she  must  get  over  this  irritation,  must 
accept  and  profit  by  this  timely  hint  that  Neva's  will 
must  be  respected.  Most  friendship  is  mere  selfishness 
in  masquerade — is  mere  seeking  of  advantage  through 
the  supposedly  blindly  altruistic  affections  of  friends. 
Narcisse,  having  capacity  for  real  friendship,  was  eager 
for  a  real  friend.  She  saw  that  Neva  was  worth  the 
winning.  And  now  that  Alois  was  breaking  away — 
Stretching  out  her  hands  appealingly,  she  said,  "  Please, 
dear,  don't  draw  away  from  me." 

Neva  understood,  responded.  Now  that  Narcisse 
was  not  by  clouded  face  and  averted  eye  demanding  ex 
planation  as  a  right,  she  felt  free  to  give  it.  "  There's 
a  reason,  Narcisse,"  said  she,  "  a  good  reason  why  I 
shan't  let  Miss  Fosdick  come  here  and  gratify  her 
curiosity." 

"  Reason  or  no  reason,"  exclaimed  Narcisse,  "  for 
get  my — my  impertinence.  .  .  .  I — I  want — I  need 
your  friendship." 

"  Not  more  than  I  need  yours,"  said  Neva.  "  Not 
so  much.  You  have  your  brother,  while  I  have  no  one." 

"  My  brother ! "  Tears  glistened  in  Narcisse's 
eyes.  "  Yes — until  he  becomes  some  other  woman's 
lover."  She  embraced  Neva,  and  departed  hastily, 
ashamed  of  her  unwonted  show  of  emotion,  but  not  re 
gretting  it. 


106 


IX 


MASTER   AND   MA'<J 

WHEN  Waller,  the  small,  dark,  discreet  factotum  to 
Fosdick,  came  to  Armstrong's  office  to  ask  him  to  go  to 
Mr.  Fosdick  "  as  soon  as  you  conveniently  can,"  Arm 
strong  knew  something  unusual  was  astir. 

Fosdick  rarely  interfered  in  the  insurance  depart 
ment  of  the  O.  A.  D.  Like  all  his  fellow  financiers  bear 
ing  the  courtesy  title  of  "  captains  of  industry,"  he  ad 
dressed  himself  entirely  to  so  manipulating  the  sums 
gathered  in  by  his  subordinates  that  he  could  retain  as 
much  of  them  and  their  usufruct  as  his  prudence,  com 
promising  with  his  greediness,  permitted.  In  the  in 
surance  department  he  as  a  rule  merely  noted  totals — 
results.  If  he  had  suggestion  or  criticism  to  make,  he 
went  to  Armstrong.  That  fitted  in  with  the  fiction  that 
he  was  no  more  in  the  O.  A.  D.  than  an  influential  direc 
tor,  that  the  Atlantic  and  Southwestern  Trunk  Line 
was  his  chief  occupation. 

Armstrong  descended  to  the  third  floor — occupied 
by  the  A.  S.  W.  T.  L.  which  was  supposed  to  have  no 
connection  with  the  purely  philanthropic  O.  A.  D., 
"  sustainer  of  old  age  and  defender  of  the  widow  and 
the  orphan."  He  went  directly  through  the  suite  of 
offices  there  to  Fosdick's  own  den.  Fosdick  had  four 
rooms.  The  outermost  was  for  the  reception  of  all 
visitors  and  the  final  disposition  of  such  of  them  as  the 

107 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

underlings  there  could  attend  to.  Next  came  the  office 
of  the  mysterious,  gravely  smiling  Waller,  with  his 
large  white  teeth  and  pretty  mustache  and  the  folding 
picture  frame  containing  photographs  of  wife  and  son 
and  two  daughters  on  his  desk  before  him — what  an  air 
of  the  home  hovering  over  and  sanctifying  the  office  dif 
fused  from  that  little  panorama!  Many  callers  sup 
posed  that  Waller's  office  was  Fosdick's,  that  Fosdick 
almost  never  came  down  there,  that  Waller  was  for  all 
practical  purposes  Fosdick.  The  third  room  was  for 
those  who,  having  convinced  the  outer  understrappers 
that  they  ought  to  be  admitted  as  far  as  Waller,  suc 
ceeded  in  convincing  Waller  that  they  must  be  person 
ally  inspected  and  heard  by  the  great  man  himself.  In 
this  third  room,  there  was  no  article  of  furniture  but  a 
carpet.  Waller  would  usher  his  visitor  in  and  leave 
him  standing — standing,  unless  he  chose  to  sit  upon  the 
floor;  for  there  was  no  chair  to  sit  upon,  no  desk  or 
projection  from  the  wall  to  lean  against.  Soon  Fosdick 
would  abruptly  and  hurriedly  enter — the  man  of  press 
ing  affairs,  pausing  on  his  way  from  one  supremely 
important  matter  to  another.  Fosdick  calculated  that 
this  seatless  private  reception  room  saved  him  as  much 
time  as  the  two  outer  visitor-sifters  together;  for  not 
a  few  of  the  men  who  had  real  business  to  bring  before 
him  were  garrulous ;  and  to  be  received  standing,  to  be 
talked  with  standing,  was  a  most  effective  encourage 
ment  to  pointedness  and  brevity. 

The  fourth  and  innermost  room  was  Fosdick's  real 
office — luxurious,  magnificent  even ;  the  rugs  and  the 
desk  and  chairs  had  cost  the  policy  holders  of  the 
O.  A.  D.  nearly  a  hundred  thousand  dollars;  the  pic 
tures,  the  marble  bust  of  Fosdick  himself,  the  statu 
ary,  the  bookcases  and  other  furnishings  had  cost 

108 


MASTER   AND   MAN 


the  shareholders  of  the  A.  S.  W.  T.  L.  almost  as  much 
more. 

Armstrong  found  Fosdick  talking  with  Morris,  Joe 
Morris,  who  was  one  of  his  minor  personal  counsel,  and 
was  paid  in  part  by  a  fixed  annual  retainer  from  the 
A.  S.  W.  T.  L.,  in  part  from  the  elastic  and  generously 
large  legal  fund  of  the  O.  A.  D.  As  Armstrong  en 
tered,  Fosdick  said:  "Well,  Joe,  that's  all.  You 
understand?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Morris.  And  he  bowed  distantly 
to  Armstrong,  bowed  obsequiously  to  his  employer  and 
departed. 

"  What's  the  matter  between  you  and  Joe  Morris  ?  " 
asked  Fosdick,  whose  quick  eyes  had  noted  the  not  at 
all  obvious  constraint. 

"  We  know  each  other  only  slightly,"  replied  Arm 
strong.  Then  he  added,  "  Mrs.  Morris  is  a  cousin  of 
my  former  wife." 

"  Oh  —  beg  pardon  for  intruding,"  said  Fos 
dick  carelessly.  "  Sit  down,  Horace,"  and  he  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  gazed  reflectively  out  into 
vacancy. 

Armstrong  seated  himself  and  waited  with  the  im 
perturbable,  noncommittal  expression  which  had  be 
come  habitual  with  him  ever  since  his  discovery  that  he 
was  Fosdick's  prisoner,  celled,  sentenced,  waiting  to  be 
led  to  the  block  at  Fosdick's  good  pleasure. 

At  last  Fosdick  broke  the  silence.  "  You  were 
right  about  that  committee." 

Apparently  this  did  not  interest  Armstrong. 

"  That  was  a  shrewd  suspicion  of  yours,"  Fosdick 
went  on.  "  And  I  ought  to  have  heeded  it.  How  did 
you  happen  to  hit  on  it  ?  " 

Armstrong  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
109 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  Just  a  guess,  eh  ?  I  thought  maybe  you  knew  who 
was  back  of  these  fellows." 

"  Who  is  back  of  them  ?  "  asked  Armstrong — a  mere 
colorless,  uninterested  inquiry. 

"  Our  friends  of  the  Universal  Life,"  replied  Fos- 
dick,  assuming  that  Armstrong's  question  was  an  ad 
mission  that  he  did  not  know.  "  They've  plotted  with 
some  of  the  old  Galloway  crowd  in  our  directory  to 
throw  me  out  and  get  control."  Fosdick  marched 
round  and  round  the  room,  puffing  furiously  at  his 
cigar.  "  They  think  they've  bought  the  governor 
away  from  me,"  he  presently  resumed.  "  They  think 
— and  he  thinks — he'll  order  the  attorney-general  to 
entertain  the  complaints  of  that  damned  committee." 
Here  Fosdick  paused  and  laughed — a  harsh  noise,  a 
gleaming  of  discolored,  jagged  teeth  through  heavy 
fringe  of  mustache.  "  I've  sent  Morris  up  to  Albany 
to  see  him.  When  he  finds  out  I've  got  a  certain  can 
celed  check  with  his  name  on  the  back  of  it,  I  guess — I 
rather  guess — he'll  get  down  on  that  big  belly  of  his 
and  come  crawling  back  to  me.  I've  sent  Morris  up 
there  to  show  him  the  knout." 

"Isn't  that  rather — raw?"  said  Armstrong,  still 
stolid. 

"  Of  course  it's  raw.  But  that's  the  way  to  deal 
with  fellows  like  him — with  most  fellows,  nowadays." 
And  Fosdick  resumed  his  march.  Armstrong  sat — 
stolid,  waiting,  matching  the  fingers  of  his  big,  ruddy 
hands. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think?"  demanded  his  mas 
ter,  pausing,  a  note  of  irritated  command  in  his 
voice. 

Armstrong  shrugged  his  shoulders.  A  disinter 
ested  observer  might  have  begun  to  suspect  that  he  was 

no 


MASTER   AND   MAN 


leading  Fosdick  on ;  but  Fosdick,  bent  upon  the  game, 
had  no  such  suspicion. 

"  I  want  your  opinion.  That's  why  I  sent  for  you," 
he  cried  impatiently. 

"  You've  got  your  mind  made  up,"  said  Armstrong. 
"  I've  nothing  to  say." 

"  Don't  you  think  my  move  settles  it  ?  " 

"  No  doubt,  the  governor'll  squelch  the  investiga 
tion." 

"  Certainly  he  will !  And  that  means  the  end  of 
those  fellows'  attempt  to  make  trouble  for  us  through 
our  own  policy  holders." 

"  Why?  "  said  Armstrong. 

"  Don't  you  think  so  ?  "  Fosdick  dropped  into  his 
chair.  "  I'm  not  quite  satisfied,"  he  said.  "  Give  me 
your  views." 

"  This  committee  has  made  a  lot  of  public  charges 
against  the  management  of  the  O.  A.  D.  It  may  be 
that  when  you  try  to  smother  the  investigation,  the  de 
mand  will  simply  break  out  worse  than  ever." 

"Pooh!"  scoffed  Fosdick.  "That  isn't  worth 
talking  about.  I  was  thinking  only  of  what  other 
moves  that  gang  could  make.  The  public  amounts  to 
nothing.  The  rank  and  file  of  our  policy  holders  is 
content.  What  have  these  fellows  charged  ?  Why,  that 
we've  spent  all  kinds  of  money  in  all  kinds  of  ways  to 
build  up  the  company.  Now,  what  does  the  average  in 
vestor  say — not  in  public  but  to  himself — when  the 
management  of  his  company  is  attacked  along  that 
line?  Why,  he  says  to  himself,  '  Better  let  well  enough 
alone.  Maybe  those  fellows  don't  give  me  all  my  share ; 
but  they  do  give  me  a  good  return  for  my  money,  as 
much  as  most  shareholders  in  most  companies  get.' 
No,  my  dear  Horace,  even  a  rotten  management  needn't 

111 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

be  afraid  of  its  public  so  long  as  it  gives  the  returns  its 
public  expects.  Trouble  comes  only  when  the  public 
gets  less  than  it  expected." 

Armstrong  did  not  withhold  from  this  shrewd 
ness  the  tribute  of  an  admiring  look.  "  Still,"  he 
persisted,  "  the  public  seems  bent  on  an  investiga 
tion." 

"  Mere  clamor,  and  no  backing  from  the  press  ex 
cept  those  newspapers  that  it  ain't  worth  while  to  stop 
with  a  chunk  of  advertising.  All  the  reputable  press  is 
with  us,  is  denouncing  those  blackmailers  for  throwing 
mud  at  men  of  spotless  reputation."  Fosdick  swelled 
his  chest.  "  The  press,  the  public,  know  us,  believe  in 
us.  Our  directory  reads  like  a  roll  call  of  the  best  citi 
zens  in  the  land.  And  the  poor  results  from  that  last 
big  tear-up  are  still  fresh  in  everybody's  mind.  Nobody 
wants  another." 

A  pause,  then  Armstrong :  "  Still,  it  might  be  bet 
ter  to  have  an  investigation." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Fosdick. 

"  You  say  we've  nothing  to  conceal.  Why  not 
show  the  public  so  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  haven't  got  anything  to  conceal," 
cried  Fosdick  defiantly.  "  At  least,  I  haven't." 

"  Why  not  have  an  investigation,  then  ?  " 

That  reiterated  word  "  investigation  "  acted  on  the 
old  financier  like  the  touch  of  a  red-hot  iron.  "  Be 
cause  I  don't  want  it !  "  he  shouted.  "  Damn  it,  man, 
ain't  I  above  suspicion?  Haven't  I  spent  my  life  in 
serving  the  public  ?  Shall  I  degrade  myself  by  noticing 
these  lying,  slandering  scoundrels?  Shall  I  let  'em 
open  up  my  private  business  to  the  mob  that  would 
misunderstand?  Shall  I  let  them  roll  me  in  the  gutter? 
No — sir — ree !  " 


MASTER    AND    MAN 


"  Then,  you  are  against  a  policy  of  aggression  ? 
You  intend  simply  to  sit  back  and  content  yourself  with 
ignoring  attacks." 

Fosdick  subsided,  scowling. 

"  Suppose  you  allowed  an  investigation " 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  that  word  again !  "  said  Fos 
dick  between  his  teeth. 

Armstrong  slowly  rose.  "  Any  further  business  ?  " 
he  asked  curtly. 

"  Sit  down,  Horace.  Don't  get  touchy.  Damn  it, 
I  want  your  advice." 

"  I  haven't  any  to  offer." 

"  What'd  you  do  if  you  were  in  my  place?  " 

This  was  as  weak  as  it  sounded.  In  human  societies 
concentrations  of  power  are  always  accidental,  in  the 
sense  that  they  do  not  result  from  deliberation;  thus, 
the  men  who  happen  to  be  in  a  position  to  seize  and 
wield  the  power  are  often  ill-equipped  to  use  it  intelli 
gently.  Fosdick  had  but  one  of  the  two  qualities  neces 
sary  to  greatness — he  could  attack.  But  he  could  not 
defend.  So  long  as  his  career  was  dependent  for  suc 
cess  upon  aggression,  he  went  steadily  ahead.  It  is  not 
so  difficult  as  some  would  have  us  believe  to  seize  the  be 
longings  of  people  who  do  not  know  their  own  rights 
and  possessions,  and  live  in  the  habitual  careless,  un 
thinking  human  fashion.  But  now  that  his  accumula 
tions  were  for  the  first  time  attracting  the  attention  of 
robbers  as  rich  and  as  unscrupulous  as  himself,  he  was 
in  a  parlous  state.  And,  without  admitting  it  to  him 
self,  he  was  prey  to  uneasiness  verging  on  terror.  Our 
modern  great  thieves  are  true  to  the  characteristics  of 
the  thief  class — they  have  courage  only  when  all  the 
odds  are  in  their  favor ;  let  them  but  doubt  their  abso 
lute  security,  and  they  lose  their  insolent  courage  and 

113 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

fall  to  quaking  and  to  seeing  visions  of  poverty  and 
prison. 

"  What  would  you  do?  "  Fosdick  repeated. 

"  What  do  your  lawyers  say  ?  " 

Fosdick  sneered.  "  What  do  they  always  say  ? 
They  echo  me.  I  have  to  tell  them  what  to  do — and, 
by  God,  I  often  have  to  show  'em  how  to  do  it."  The 
fact  was  that  Fosdick,  like  almost  all  the  admired  "  cap 
tains  of  industry,"  was  a  mere  helpless  appetite  with 
only  the  courage  of  an  insane  and  wholly  unscrupulous 
hunger ;  but  for  the  lawyers,  he  would  not  have  been 
able  to  gratify  it.  In  modern  industrialism  the  lawyer 
is  the  honeybird  that  leads  the  strong  but  stupid  bear 
to  the  forest  hive — and  the  honeybird  gets  as  a  reward 
only  what  the  bear  permits.  "  Give  me  your  best  judg 
ment,  Horace,"  pursued  Fosdick. 

"  In  your  place,  I'd  fight,"  said  Armstrong. 

"How?" 

"  I'd  order  the  governor  to  appoint  an  investigating 
committee,  made  up  of  reliable  men.  I'd  appoint  one 
of  my  lawyers  as  attorney  to  it — some  chap  who  wasn't 
supposed  to  be  my  lawyer.  I'd  let  it  investigate  me, 
make  it  give  me  a  reasonably,  plausibly  clean  bill  of 
health.  Then,  I'd  set  it  on  the  other  fellows,  have  it 
tear  'em  to  pieces,  make  'em  too  busy  with  home  re 
pairs  to  have  time  to  stick  their  noses  over  my  back 
fence." 

Fosdick  listened,  appreciated,  and  hated  Armstrong 
for  having  thought  of  that  which  was  so  obvious  once  it 
was  stated  and  yet  had  never  occurred  to  him. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Armstrong  carelessly,  "  there  are 
risks  in  that  course.  But  I  don't  believe  you  can  stop 
an  investigation  altogether.  It's  choice  among  evils." 

"  Well,  we'll  see,"  said  Fosdick.     "  There's  no  oc- 


MASTER    AND   MAN 


casion  for  hurry.  This  situation  isn't  as  bad  as  you 
seem  to  think." 

It  had  always  been  part  of  his  basic  policy  to  mini 
mize  the  value  of  his  lieutenants — it  kept  them  modest ; 
it  moderated  their  demands  for  bigger  pay  and  larger 
participation  in  profits ;  it  enabled  him  to  feel  that  he 
was  "  the  whole  show  "  and  to  preen  himself  upon  his 
liberality  in  giving  so  much  to  men  actually  worth  so 
little.  He  was  finding  it  difficult  to  apply  this  policy 
to  Armstrong.  For,  the  Westerner  was  of  the  sort  of 
man  who  not  only  makes  it  a  point  to  be  more  necessary 
to  those  he  deals  with  than  they  are  to  him,  but  also 
makes  it  a  point  to  force  them  to  see  and  to  admit  it. 
Armstrong's  quiet  insistence  upon  his  own  value  only 
roused  Fosdick  to  greater  efforts  to  convince  him,  and 
himself,  that  Armstrong  was  a  mere  cog  in  the  machine. 
He  sent  him  away  with  a  touch  of  superciliousness. 
But — no  sooner  was  he  alone  than  he  rang  up  Morris. 

"  Come  over  at  once,"  he  ordered.  "  I've  changed 
my  mind.  I've  got  another  message  for  you  to  take  up 
there  with  you." 

It  would  have  exasperated  him  to  see  Armstrong  as 
he  returned  to  his  own  offices.  The  Westerner  had  lost 
all  in  a  moment  that  air  of  stolidity  under  which  he  had 
been  for  several  months  masking  his  anxiety.  He 
moved  along  whistling  softly ;  he  joked  with  the  elevator 
boy ;  he  shut  himself  in  his  private  office,  lit  a  cigar  and 
lay  back  in  his  chair  and  stared  at  the  ceiling,  his  ex 
pression  that  of  a  man  whose  thoughts  are  delightful 
company. 


115 


AMY    SWEET   AND   AMY  SOUB 

Now  that  Fosdick  saw  how  he  could  clear  himself, 
and  more,  of  those  he  had  been  variously  describing  as 
prjers,  peepers,  ingrates,  traitors  and  blackmailers,  he 
was  chagrined  that  he  had  been  so  near  to  panic.  He 
couldn't  understand  it,  so  he  assured  himself ;  with  noth 
ing  to  conceal,  with  hands  absolutely  clean,  with  not  an 
act  on  the  record  that  was  not  legitimate,  such  as  the 
most  respectable  men  in  the  most  respectable  circles  not 
only  approved  but  did — with  these  the  conditions,  how 
had  he  been  so  upset? 

"  I  suppose,"  he  reflected,  "  as  a  man  gets  older,  he 
becomes  foolishly  sensitive  about  his  reputation.  Then, 
too,  the  world  is  eager  to  twist  evil  into  everything — 
and  I  have  so  many  in  my  own  class  who  are  jealous  of 
me,  of  my  standing." 

The  silliest  thing  he  had  done,  he  decided,  was  that 
talk  with  the  Siersdorfs.  Why,  if  they  were  at  all 
evil-minded,  they  might  suspect  he  was  using  those 
construction  accounts  for  swindling  purposes,  instead 
of  making  a  perfectly  legitimate  convenience  of  them 
to  adjust  the  bookkeeping  to  the  impossible  require 
ments  of  law  and  public  opinion.  "  It's  an  outrage," 
he  thought,  "  that  we  can't  have  the  laws  fixed  so  it 
would  be  possible  to  carry  on  business  without  having 
to  do  things  liable  to  misconstruction,  if  made  gener- 

116 


AMY  SWEET  AND  AMY  SOUR 

ally  public.  But  we  can't.  As  it  is,  look  at  the 
swindlers  who  have  taken  advantage  of  the  laws  we 
absolutely  had  to  have  the  legislature  make."  Yes,  it 
was  a  blunder  to  take  the  Siersdorfs  into  his  confi 
dence — though  the  young  man  did  show  that  he  had 
brains  enough  to  understand  the  elements  of  large  af 
fairs.  Still,  he  might  some  time  make  improper  use 
of  the  knowledge — unless 

Fosdick  decided  that  thereafter  the  vouchers  should 
pass  through  Siersdorfs  hands,  should  have  Siers- 
dorf 's  O.  K.  "  Then,  if  any  question  arises,  it  will 
be  to  his  interest  to  treat  confidential  matters  confi 
dentially.  Or,  if  he  should  turn  against  me,  he'd  be 
unable  to  throw  mud  without  miring  himself." 

And  now  Fosdick  saw  why  he  had  instantly  jumped 
for  the  Siersdorfs.  They  alone  were  not  personally  in 
volved  in  any  of  the  "  private  business  "  of  the  O.  A.  D. 
All  the  directors,  all  the  officials,  all  the  important 
agents,  were  involved,  and  therefore  would  not  dare 
turn  traitor  if  they  should  be  vile  enough  to  contem 
plate  it.  But  the  Siersdorfs  were  independent,  yet 
perilously  in  possession  of  the  means  to  make  trouble. 

"  I  must  fix  them,"  said  Fosdick.  "  I  must  clinch 
them." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  within  a  week  Alois  was 
helping  the  directors  of  the  O.  A.  D.  to  keep  their  ac 
counts  "  adjusted  " — was  signing  vouchers  for  many 
times  the  amounts  that  were  being  actually  expended 
upon  the  building.  He  hesitated  before  writing  the 
firm  name  upon  the  first  of  these  documents.  On  the 
face  of  it,  the  act  did  look — peculiar.  True,  it  was  a 
simple  matter  of  bookkeeping ;  still,  he'd  rather  not  be 
involved.  There  seemed  no  way  out  of  it,  however. 
To  refuse  was  to  insult  Fosdick — and  that  when  Fos- 

117 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

dick  was  showing  his  confidence  in  and  affection  for  him. 
Also,  it  meant  putting  in  jeopardy  three  big  orders  in 
hand — the  two  office  buildings  and  Overlook. 

"  It'd  break  Narcisse's  heart  to  have  to  give  up 
doing  Overlook,"  he  said  to  himself.  Yes,  he  would 
sign  the  vouchers;  now  that  he  felt  he  was  acting,  at 
least  in  large  part,  for  his  dear  sister's  sake,  he  had  no 
qualms.  Having  passed  the  line,  he  looked  back  with 
amusement.  He  debating  as  a  moral  question  a  matter 
of  business  routine!  A  matter  approved  by  such  a 
character,  such  a  figure  as  Josiah  Fosdick ! 

Some  of  these  "  technically  inaccurate  "  vouchers 
were  before  him  when  Narcisse  happened  into  his  office. 
Though  there  was  "  nothing  wrong  with  them — noth 
ing  whatever,"  and  though  she  would  not  have  known  it 
if  there  had  been,  he  instinctively  slipped  the  blotting 
pad  over  them. 

"What  are  you  hiding  there?"  she  teased  inno 
cently.  "  A  love  letter?  " 

He  frowned.  "  You've  got  that  on  the  brain,"  he 
retorted,  with  a  constrained  smile.  "  What  do  you 
want — now?  " 

"  Amy's  here.  Have  you  time  to  go  over  the 
plans?" 

"  Yes — right  away,"  said  he,  with  quick  complete 
change  of  manner. 

She  winced.  So  sensitive  had  she  become  on  the 
sub j  ect  of  her  brother  and  her  friend  that  she  was  hurt 
by  the  most  casual  suggestion  from  either  of  interest 
in  the  other.  Regarding  her  brother  as  irresistible, 
she  assumed  that,  should  he  ask  Amy,  he  would  be 
snapped  in,  like  fly  by  frog.  "  Yet,"  said  she  to  her 
self,  "  they're  utterly  unsuited.  He'd  realize  it  as  soon 
as  he  was  married  to  her.  Why  can't  a  man  ever  see 

118 


AMY  SWEET  AND  AMY  SOUR 

through  a  woman  until  he's  had  an  affair  with  her  and 
gotten  over  her  ?  " 

"  Shall  we  look  at  the  plans  here  or  in  your  room?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I'll  send  her  here.  ...  It  won't  be  necessary  for 
me  to  come,  will  it  ?  " 

"  No.  We'll  hardly  get  round  to  your  part  to 
day,"  said  Alois.  And  Amy  went  in  alone,  and  spent 
the  entire  afternoon  with  Alois.  And  most  attractive 
he  made  himself  to  Amy.  In  his  profession,  he  had 
many  elements  of  strength ;  he  hated  shams,  had  a  nat 
ural  sense  of  the  beautiful,  unspoiled  by  the  conven 
tionalities  that  reduce  most  architects  to  slavish  copy 
ists.  He  did  not  think  things  fine  simply  because  they 
were  old;  neither  did  he  think  them  ugly  or  stale  for 
that  reason.  He  knew  how  to  judge  on  merit  alone; 
and  he  had  educated  Amy  Fosdick  to  the  point  where 
she  at  least  appreciated  his  views  and  ideas.  When  a 
man  gets  a  woman  trained  to  that  point,  he  thinks  her 
a  marvel  of  independent  intellect,  with  germs  of  genius 
— if  she  is  at  all  attractive  to  him  physically.  He 
forgot  that,  until  Amy  had  "  taken  up  "  the  Siers- 
dorfs,  she  had  been  as  enthusiastic  about  the  barren 
and  conventional  Whitbridge  as  she  now  was  about 
them.  Appreciation  is  one  of  the  most  deceptive 
qualities  in  the  world,  where  it  is  genuine.  Through 
it  we  are  all  constantly  disguising  from  ourselves  and 
from  others  our  own  mental  poverty. 

Usually  appreciation  is  little  more  than  a  liking  for 
the  person  whose  ideas  we  think  we  understand  and 
share.  In  Amy's  case,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  real 
understanding.  She  had  much  natural  good  taste, 
enough  to  learn  to  share  in  the  amusement  of  Narcisse 
and  Alois  at  the  silly  imitations  of  old-world  palaces 

119 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

her  acquaintances  were  hastening  to  house  themselves 
in — palaces  built  for  a  forever  departed  era  of  the 
human  race,  for  a  past  people  of  a  past  and  gone  social 
order;  she  also  saw,  when  Alois  pointed  it  out  to  her, 
the  silliness  of  the  mania  for  antiques  which  in  our  day 
is  doing  so  much  to  suffocate  originality  and  even  good 
taste.  She  learned  to  loathe  the  musty,  fusty  rags  and 
worm-eaten  woods  the  crafty  European  dealers  manu 
facture,  "  plant,"  and  work  off  on  those  Americans  who 
are  bent  upon  the  same  snobbishness  in  art  education 
that  they  are  determined  to  have  in  the  other  forms  of 
education.  Encouraged  by  Narcisse  and  Alois,  she 
came  boldly  out  against  that  which  she  had  long  in 
secret  doubted  and  disliked.  She  was  more  than  willing 
that  they  should  build  her  a  house  suitable  as  a  habita 
tion  for  a  human  being  in  the  twentieth  century-~-a 
house  that  was  ventilated  and  convenient  and  scien 
tific.  And  she  was  giving  Alois  a  free  hand  in  planning 
surroundings  of  spontaneous  beauty  rather  than  of  the 
kind  that  pleased  the  narrower  and  more  precise  fancy 
of  a  narrower  age,  to  which  the  idea  of  freedom  of  any 
sort  was  unknown. 

"Gracious!  It's  after  half  past  four!"  she  ex 
claimed,  as  if  she  had  just  become  conscious  of  the  fact, 
when  in  truth  she  had  been  impatiently  watching  the 
clock  by  way  of  a  mirror  for  nearly  an  hour. 

"  So  it  is ! "  said  Alois,  immensely  nattered  by  her 
unconsciousness  of  time. 

"  I  want  to  take  these  plans  with  me — to  show  them 
to  some  one." 

Alois  felt  that  the  "  some  one  "  was  a  man,  and  a 
very  particular  friend — else,  she  would  have  spoken  the 
name.  "  Very  well,"  he  said,  faintly  sullen. 

"  Don't  be  disturbed,"  was  her  absent  reply.  "  I'll 
120 


'She  was  giving  Alois  a   free  hand  in  planning  surroundings.' 


AMY  SWEET  AND  AMY  SOUR 

take  good  care  of  them."  She  saw  the  change  in  him; 
but,  not  thinking  of  him  as  a  man,  but  as  an  intelligence 
only,  she  did  not  grasp  the  cause.  "  Thank  you  so 
much,"  she  went  on,  "  for  being  so  patient  with  me. 
How  splendid  it  must  be  to  have  always  with  one  a  mind 
like  yours — or  Narcisse's.  Well,  until  to-morrow,  or 
next  day."  And,  looking  as  charming  as  only  a  pretty 
woman  with  a  fortune  can  look  to  a  man  who  wants 
both  her  and  her  fortune,  she  left  him  desolate. 

The  "  some  one  "  was  indeed  a  man.  But  he — Arm 
strong — did  not  arrive  until  half  an  hour  after  the  ap 
pointed  time.  She  came  into  the  small  salon  into  which 
he  had  been  shown,  her  gloves,  hat  and  wraps  on  and 
the  big  roll  of  plans  under  her  arm ;  and  no  one  would 
have  suspected  that  she  had  been  waiting  for  him  since 
ten  minutes  before  five  and  had  spent  most  of  the  time 
in  primping.  "  I'm  all  blown  to  pieces,"  she  apolo 
gized,  as  she  entered.  "  Have  I  kept  you  waiting?  I 
really  couldn't  help  it." 

"  I  just  got  here,"  said  Armstrong.  "  I,  too,  was 
late — business,  as  always."  Which  was  true  enough ; 
but  the  whole  truth  would  have  been  that  he  forgot  the 
appointment  until  its  very  hour.  "  I'll  not  keep  you 
long,"  he  continued.  "  I've  got  to  dress  for  an  early 
dinner." 

She  was  so  disappointed  that  she  did  not  dare  speak, 
lest  she  should  show  her  ill  humor — and  she  knew  Arm 
strong  detested  a  bad  disposition  in  a  woman.  She 
rang  for  tea;  when  the  servants  had  brought  it  and 
were  gone,  she  began  fussing  with  her  coat.  He,  pre 
occupied,  did  not  see  her  hinted  signals  until  she  said, 
"  Please,  do  help  me." 

As  he  drew  off  the  coat  there  floated  to  him  a  de 
lightful  perfume,  a  mingling  of  feminine  and  flowers, 
9  121 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

of  freshness  and  delicacy,  a  stimulating  suggestion  of 
the  sensuous  refinements  which  a  woman  with  taste  and 
the  means  can  employ  as  powerful  allies  in  her  siege  of 
man.  She  looked  up  at  him — her  eyes  were,  save  her 
teeth,  her  best  feature.  She  just  brushed  his  arm  in 
one  of  those  seemingly  unconscious,  affectionate- 
friendly  gestures  which  are  intended  to  be  encouraging 
without  being  "  unwomanly."  "  How  is  my  friend  to 
day  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  So-so,"  replied  he,  taking  her  advances  at  their 
face  value. 

"  You  never  come  here  unless  I  send  for  you,  and 
you  always  have  some  excuse  for  going  soon." 

He  smiled  good-natured  raillery.  "  How  sure  of 
yourself  you  feel !  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  " 

"  Your  remark.  You  are  always  making  that  kind 
of  remarks.  They're  never  made  except  by  women  who 
feel  sure." 

"  But  I  don't,"  protested  she.  "  On  the  contrary, 
I'm  very  humble — where  you're  concerned."  She  gave 
him  a  long  look.  "  And  you  know  that's  true." 

He  laughed  at  her  with  his  eyes.  "  No.  I  shan't 
do  it.  You'll  have  only  your  trouble  for  your  pains." 

She  colored.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  I  won't  propose  to  you.  You've  been  try 
ing  to  inveigle  me  into  it  for  nearly  a  year  now.  But 
you'll  have  to  do  without  my  scalp." 

The  big  Westerner's  jesting  manner  carried  his  re 
mark,  despite  its  almost  insolent  frankness.  Besides, 
what  with  Amy's  content  with  herself  and  partiality  for 
him,  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  him  to  offend  her. 
Never  before  had  she  been  able  to  lure  him  so  near  to 
the  one  subject  she  wished  to  discuss  with  him.  "  What 


AMY  SWEET  AND  AMY  SOUR 

conceit,"  cried  she,  all  smiles.  "  You  fancy  I've  been 
flirting  with  you.  I  might  have  known!  Men  always 
misunderstand  a  woman's  friendship.  I  suppose  you 
imagine  I'm  in  love  with  you." 

"  Not  in  the  least.     No  more  than  I  with  you." 

She  looked  crestfallen  at  this.  Whether  a  woman 
has  much  or  little  to  give  a  man,  whether  she  wants  his 
love  or  not,  she  always  wishes  to  feel  that  it  is  there 
waiting  for  her.  "  Why  do  you  imagine  I  wish  you  to 
ask  me  to  marry  you?  "  she  asked,  swiftly  recovering 
and  not  believing  him. 

He  did  not  answer  that.  Instead  he  said :  "  You 
came  very  near  to  getting  your  way  about  a  year  ago. 
I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  to  marry  you." 

"  To  marry  me,"  she  echoed  ironically. 

"  To  marry  you,"  he  repeated  in  his  attractive, 
downright  fashion. 

"  Well— why  didn't  you?  " 

"  I  decided  I  didn't  need  you,"  said  he,  most  mat 
ter-of-fact.  "  I  saw  I'd  be  repeating  the  blunder  I  made 
when  I  married  before.  When  I  got  out  of  college,  I 
was  so  discouraged  by  the  prospect,  I  felt  so  weak  with 
out  money  or  influence,  that  I  let  myself  drift  into  a 
great  folly — for  it  is  a  folly  to  imagine  that  money  or 
influence  are  of  any  value  in  making  a  career.  They're 
the  results  of  a  career,  not  its  cause.  Once  more,  when 
I  faced  the  big  battle  here  in  New  York,  I  was  fooled 
for  a  while  in  spite  of  myself  by  the  same  old  delusion. 
I  saw  that  the  successful  men  all  had  great  wealth,  and 
I  made  the  same  old  shallow  mistake  of  supposing  their 
wealth  gave  them  their  success.  But  I  got  back  to  the 
sensible  point  of  view  very  quickly." 

"  And  so — I — escaped." 

"  Escaped  is  the  word  for  it." 
123 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  You  are  flattering — to-day." 

"  That  sarcasm  because  I  did  not  so  much  as  speak 
of  your  charms,  I  suppose?  " 

"  You  might  have  said  I  was  personally  a  little  of  a 
temptation." 

"  Why  go  into  that?  "  rejoined  he,  with  an  intona 
tion  that  gave  her  a  chance  to  be  flattered,  if  she  chose. 
"  Of  course,  if  I  had  decided  I  needed  you  in  my  career, 
I'd  have  flung  myself  over  ears  into  love.  As  it  was, 
don't  you  think  my  keeping  away  from  you  compli 
mentary?  " 

This  was  the  nearest  he  had  ever  come  to  an  admis 
sion  that  she  was  attractive  to  him;  she  straightway 
exaggerated  it  into  a  declaration  of  love.  Very  few 
women  make  or  even  understand  a  man's  clear  distinc 
tion  between  physical  attraction  and  love ;  Amy  thought 
them  one  and  the  same. 

"  You  are  so  hard !  "  said  she.  "  I  wonder  at  myself 
for  liking  you."  As  she  spoke,  she  rapidly  thought  it 
out  with  the  aid  of  her  vanity ;  men  and  women,  in  their 
relations  with  each  other,  always  end  by  taking  counsel 
of  vanity.  He  wanted  her;  he  had  taken  this  subtle 
means  to  get  within  her  defenses  and,  without  running 
the  risk  of  a  refusal,  find  out  whether  he  could  get  her, 
whether  a  woman  of  her  wealth  and  position  would  con 
descend  to  him.  It  was  with  her  sweetest,  candidest 
smile  that  she  went  on,  "  Now  it  is  all  settled.  You 
don't  want  to  marry  me ;  you  aren't  in  love  with  me.  I 
need  not  be  afraid  of  any  designs,  mercenary  or  other 
wise.  At  last,  we  can  be  real  friends." 

He  reflected,  then  said  with  a  judicial,  impersonal 
air,  "  No  matter  how  well  a  man  plays  the  game  of  man 
and  man,  he  usually  plays  the  game  of  man  and  woman 
badly.  Why?  Because  he  thinks  the  conditions  are 


AMY  SWEET  AND  AMY  SOUR 

different.  He  is  deceived  by  woman's  air  of  guileless- 
ness  into  imagining  he  has  the  game  all  his  own  way." 

"  What  has  that  got  to  do  with  what  I  said  to 
you?  "  asked  she,  her  color  a  confession  that  the  ques 
tion  was  unnecessary. 

He  again  laughed  at  her  with  his  eyes.  "  Why  did 
you  think  it  had?" 

She  pouted.  "  You  are  in  a  horrible  mood  to 
day." 

He  rose.     "  Thanks  for  the  hint." 

She  began  to  unroll  the  plans. 

"  Now,  there's  the  man  for  you,"  said  he,  with  a 
gesture  toward  her  bundle  of  blue  prints. 

"Who?" 

"  Siersdorf ." 

"  If  I  had  to  choose,  I'd  prefer — even  you." 

"  Siersdorf  is  adaptable  and  appreciative.  He's 
good  to  look  at,  has  a  good  all-round  mind,  is  extraordi 
nary  in  his  specialty.  You  couldn't  do  better." 

"  I  don't  want  him,"  she  cried  impatiently.  "  I 
prefer  to  suit  myself  in  marrying."  She  stood  before 
him,  her  hands  behind  her,  the  pretty  face  tilted  dar 
ingly  upward.  "  Are  you  trying  to  make  me  dislike 
you?" 

He  looked  down  at  her ;  there  was  not  a  hint  in  his 
expression  that  her  dare  was  a  temptation.  "  I  must 
be  going,"  said  he. 

Tears  gathered  in  her  eyes,  made  them  brilliant, 
took  away  much  of  their  natural  hardness.  "  Wont 
you  be  friends  ?  "  she  appealed. 

He  continued  to  look  straight  into  her  eyes  until 
her  expression  told  him  she  knew  he  was  not  deceived 
by  her  maneuverings  and  strategies.  Then  he  said, 
"  No,"  with  terse  directness  of  manner  as  well  as  of 

125 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

speech.  "  No,  because  you  do  not  want  friends.  You 
want  victims." 

In  sudden  anger  she  flung  off  her  mask.  "  I  am  a 
good  hater,"  she  warned.  "  You  don't  want  me  to  turn 
against  you,  do  you?  " 

His  face  became  sad  and  somewhat  bitter.  There 
had  been  a  time  when  such  a  menace  from  a  source  so 
near  his  career  would  have  alarmed  him,  would  have  set 
him  to  debating  conciliation.  But  his  self-confidence 
had  developed  beyond  that  stage,  had  reached  the  point 
where  a  man  feels  that,  if  any  force  from  without  can 
injure  him,  the  sooner  he  finds  it  out,  the  more  quickly 
he  will  be  able  to  make  a  career  founded  upon  the  only 
unshakable  ground,  his  own  single  strength. 

"  I've  taken  a  great  deal  off  you,"  she  went  on  in  a 
menacing  tone,  a  tone  intended  to  remind  him  that  he 
was  an  employee.  "  You  ought  to  be  more  careful. 
I'm  not  all  sweetness.  I  can  be  hard  and  unforgiving 
when  I  cease  to  like." 

He  laughed  unpleasantly  as  vanity  thus  easily 
divested  itself  of  its  mask  of  love.  "  And  to  cross  you 
is  all  that's  necessary  to  rouse  your  dislike." 

"  That's  all,"  said  she.  And  now  she  looked  like 
her  father  in  his  rare  exhibitions  of  his  true  self.  She 
had  never  deceived  Armstrong  altogether.  But  he  was 
too  masculine  not  to  have  lingerings  of  the  universal 
male  delusion  that  feminine  always  and  necessarily 
means  at  least  something  of  sweetness  and  tenderness. 

"  Shall  we  be  friends  ?  "  she  demanded  sharply,  im 
periously.  At  bottom,  she  could  not  believe  anyone 
would  stand  against  the  power  that  gave  her  a  scep 
ter — the  power  of  wealth.  "Friends,  or — not?" 

"  As  you  please,"  replied  he,  bowing  coldly.  And 
he  went,  his  last  look  altogether  calm,  not  without  a 

126 


AMY  SWEET  AND   AMY  SOUR 

tinge  of  contempt.  He  realized  that  he  had  come  there 
to  put  an  end  to  his  flirtation  with  her,  to  assert  his  own 
independence,  to  free  himself  from  the  entanglement 
which  his  temporary  weakness  of  the  first  days  in  over 
whelming  New  York  had  led  him  into.  The  swimmer, 
used  only  to  pond  or  narrow  river,  is  unnerved  for  a 
moment  when  he  finds  himself  in  the  sea ;  but  if  he  knows 
his  art,  he  is  soon  reassured,  because  he  discovers  that 
no  more  skill  is  needed  for  sea  than  for  pond,  only  a 
little  more  self-confidence. 

He  was  not  clear  of  the  house  when  she  was  saying 
to  herself,  "  Hugo  is  right  about  him.  Father  must 
take  him  in  hand.  He  shall  be  taught  his  place." 


127 


XI 


AT     MRS.    TRAFFORD  S 

ARMSTRONG  felt  that  he  had  regained  his  lib 
erty. 

The  principal  feature  of  every  adequate  defense  is 
vigorous  attack;  and,  so  long  as  Amy  was  pretending 
to  be  and  was  thinking  herself  his  friend,  was  in  fact  as 
much  his  friend  as  it  was  possible  for  one  to  be  who  had 
been  bred  to  self-worship,  Armstrong  could  take  only 
lame,  passive  measures  against  Fosdick.  But  now —  In 
the  oncoming  struggle  in  which  he  would  get  no  quar 
ter,  he  need  give  none.  Several  times,  as  he  was  dress 
ing  for  dinner,  a  cynical  smile  played  over  his  features. 
What  a  queer  game  life  was !  In  other  circumstances, 
that  might  easily  have  come  about,  he  and  Amy  would 
have  plunged  into  a  romantic  love  affair ;  they  would 
have  been  standing  by  each  other  against  all  the  world, 
the  stronger  in  their  love  and  devotion  for  the  opposi 
tion.  A  few  words,  and  off  flies  her  mask  of  sweetness, 
so  deceptive  that  it  almost  deceived  herself,  and  away 
goes  her  pretense  of  friendship ;  the  friends  become 
enemies,  liking  becomes  hate.  No  real  change  in  either 
of  them;  each  just  as  likable  as  before;  yet,  what  a  dif 
ference  !  It  amused  him.  It  saddened  him.  "  Prob 
ably  at  this  very  moment  she's  edging  her  father  on  to 
destroy  me,"  he  thought.  But  that  disturbed  him  not 
at  all.  He  had  no  fear  of  enemies ;  he  knew  that  they 

128 


AT   MRS.    TRAFFORD'S 


fling  themselves  against  the  gates  in  vain,  unless  there 
are  traitors  within. 

This  break  with  Amy  was  most  opportune.  He 
was  dining  at  the  Traffords  that  evening ;  he  could  tell 
Trafford  he  would  accept  without  any  reservations  the 
long-standing  invitation  to  enter  the  Atwater-Trafford 
plot  to  seize  the  O.  A.  D. 

Trafford  was  one  of  the  rising  stars  in  finance.  He 
originated  in  a  village  in  southern  New  Jersey  where  he 
was  first  a  school  teacher,  then  a  lawyer.  He  spent 
many  years  in  studying  the  problem  of  success — suc 
cess,  of  course,  meaning  the  getting  of  a  vast  fortune. 
He  discovered  that  there  were  two  ways  to  enormous 
wealth — by  seizing  an  accumulation  amassed  by  some 
one  else ;  by  devising  a  trap  that  would  deceive  or  com 
pel  a  multitude  of  people  to  contribute  each  his  mite  of 
a  few  dimes  or  dollars.  The  first  way  was  the  quicker, 
of  course ;  but  Trafford  saw  that  the  number  of  multi 
millionaires  incapable  of  defending  at  least  the  bulk  of 
their  wealth  was  extremely  limited,  and  that,  of  them, 
few  indeed  kept  their  wealth  together  so  that  one  swoop 
could  scoop  it  all.  His  mind  turned  to  the  other  way. 
After  carefully  examining  the  various  forms  of  trap, 
he  was  delighted  to  discover  that  the  one  that  was  easiest 
to  use  was  also  the  best.  Insurance!  To  get  several 
hundred  thousand  people  to  make  you  absolute  trustee 
of  their  savings,  asking  no  real  accounting ;  and  all  you 
had  to  do  was  to  keep  a  certain  part  of  the  money  safely 
invested  so  that,  when  anybody  died,  you  could  pay  his 
heirs  about  what  he  had  paid  you,  with  simple  interest, 
or  less,  added.  Trafford  studied  the  life  insurance 
tables,  and  he  was  amazed  that  nobody  had  ever  taken 
the  trouble  to  expose  the  business.  He  stood  astounded 
before  the  revelation  that  the  companies  must  be  earn- 

129 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

ing,  on  "  risks  "  alone,  from  ten  to  thirty  per  cent, 
this  in  addition  to  what  clever  fellows  on  the  inside  must 
be  doing  in  the  way  of  speculation ;  that  policy  holders 
got  back  in  so-called  dividends  less  than  five,  usually 
less  than  four,  often  less  than  three  per  cent ! 

Traff ord's  fingers  twitched.  Rich  ?  Why,  he  would 
be  worth  millions ! 

He  made  choice  among  the  different  kinds  of  insur 
ance.  The  object  was  to  get  a  company  that  would 
draw  in  the  greatest  number  of  "  beneficiaries  "  and 
would  have  to  pay  the  smallest  proportion  of  "  bene 
fits."  The  greatest  number  were  obviously  the  very 
poor;  and,  by  happy  coincidence,  the  very  poor  could 
also  be  exploited  more  easily  and  more  thoroughly  and 
with  less  outcry  than  any  other  class.  So,  Trafford 
made  burial  insurance  his  "  graft."  He  would  play 
upon  the  horror  the  poor  have  of  Potter's  Field. 

He  began  in  a  small  way  in  Trenton ;  he  presently 
had  several  thousand  policy  holders,  each  paying  ten 
cents  a  week  to  his  agent-collectors.  As  soon  as  a  pol 
icy  of  this  kind  has  run  for  several  months,  it  is  to  the 
advantage  of  both  agent  and  company  for  it  to  lapse. 
Thus,  Trafford's  policies,  obscurely  worded,  unintelli 
gible  to  any  but  a  lawyer,  read  that  the  weekly  pay 
ments  must  be  made  at  the  office  of  the  company ;  that 
an  omission  promptly  to  pay  a  single  month's  dues  made 
the  policy  lapse ;  that  a  lapsed  policy  had  no  surrender 
value.  He  was  too  greedy  at  first,  and  Trenton  was 
too  small  a  place.  When  it  became  "  too  hot  to  hold 
him,"  he  went  to  New  York — New  York  with  its  vast, 
ignorant,  careless  tenement  population,  with  its  cor 
rupt  government,  with  its  superb  opportunities  for 
floating  and  expanding  a  respectable  grafting  scheme. 

If  he  had  stayed  in  Trenton,  he  would  probably 
130 


AT   MRS.    TR AFFORD 'S 


have  gone  to  the  penitentiary.  But  in  New  York  he 
became  ever  richer,  ever  more  respectable ;  he  attracted 
about  him  a  group  of  eminently  respectable  sustainers 
of  church  and  society,  always  eager  to  get  their  noses 
into  a  large,  new  trough  of  swill.  The  Home  and 
Hearth  Mutual  Defense  Company  soon  dwelt  in  a 
palace,  built  at  a  cost  of  many  millions,  every  penny 
of  it  picked  from  the  pockets  of  ragged  trousers 
and  skirts;  Trafford  himself  dwelt  in  another  and 
even  more  costly  palace  farther  uptown,  built  with 
the  same  kind  of  money.  He  was  a  vestryman  in 
the  fashionable  Church  of  the  Holy  Family,  a  sub 
scriber  to  all  the  fashionable  charities,  an  author 
ity  on  the  fashionable  theories  as  to  the  tenement 
house  question  and  other  sociological  problems  re 
lating  to  the  slums.  And  he  thought  as  well  of 
himself  as  did  his  neighbors.  Was  it  his  business  if  the 
company's  collectors  forgot  to  be  accommodating  and 
to  relieve  the  poor  of  the  necessity  of  making  their  pay 
ments  at  the  offices?  Was  it  his  business  if  policies 
lapsed  by  the  thousands,  by  the  tens  of  thousands, 
through  the  carelessness  or  ignorance  of  the  policy 
holders?  Look  at  the  hundreds  of  thousands  whose 
funeral  expenses  were  provided  by  the  Home  and 
Hearth !  Look  at  the  charities  he  subscribed  to  ;  listen 
to  the  speeches  in  behalf  of  charity  and  philanthropy 
he  made!  Did  he  not  give  the  policy  holders  all  that 
was  legally  theirs? — at  least,  all  that  was  rightfully 
theirs  under  the  accepted  business  code ;  certainly,  more 
than  the  law  would  have  allowed  them,  if  laws  could  be 
made  so  that  the  good  could  carry  on  "  practical " 
business  and  yet  the  wicked  not  get  undue  license. 
Trafford  had  never  been  a  moral  theorist.  He  had  ac 
cepted  the  code  known  as  legal  morals — "  the  world's 

131 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 


working  compromise  with  utopianism,"  he  sonorously 
called  it.  As  he  expanded  financially,  he  expanded 
morally ;  by  the  time  he  became  a  high  financier,  he  was 
ready  for  the  broader  code  known  as  financial  morals — 
wherein  allowances  are  made  for  all  those  moral  diffi 
culties  which  the  legal  code,  being  of  necessity  of  wider 
application,  cannot  take  into  account. 

A  fine  man  was  Trafford,  with  a  face  that  the 
women  and  the  clergy  called  "  sweet  "  and  "  spiritual," 
with  a  full  gray  beard,  young  eyes,  bright  blue  and 
smiling,  iron-gray  hair  that  waved  a  little,  and  the  dress 
of  the  substantial  citizen. 

His  home  life  was  beautiful. 

He  had  made  his  first  and  false  start  with  a  school 
teacher — she  had  had  the  first  grade  in  the  school  where 
he  taught  the  sixth  grade.  She  was  of  about  his  own 
age,  and  indolent,  and  had  never  heard  that  a  married 
woman  ought  to  keep  herself  up  to  the  mark ;  she  was, 
therefore,  old  at  thirty-two,  and  he  still  a  mere  boy  in 
looks  and  in  feeling.  She  said  rather  severe  things 
when  he  so  narrowly  escaped  disgrace  during  his  ap 
prenticeship  at  Trenton;  they  quarreled,  they  sepa 
rated. 

In  the  boarding  house  where  he  first  stopped  in 
New  York  there  was  a  serious,  shrewd,  pretty  girl,  the 
daughter  of  the  landlady  and  the  niece  of  one  of  the 
high  dignitaries  of  the  church.  Trafford  induced  his 
wife  to  divorce  him — before  she  discovered  how  swiftly 
and  luxuriantly  he  was  putting  forth  bough  and  leaf  in 
congenial  New  York.  He  married  the  niece  of  the 
church  dignitary  in  the  parlor  of  the  boarding  house ; 
a  "  most  elegant  function  "  it  was  pronounced  by  the 
boarders — and,  as  they  read  all  the  "  fashionable  intel 
ligence  "  and  claimed  kinship  with  various  fashionable 

132 


AT   MRS.    TR AFFORD 'S 


people,  they  ought  to  have  known.  The  wedding  was 
like  the  bright  dawn  of  a  bright  day — a  somewhat 
cool,  even  frosty  day,  but  brilliant.  Neither  Trafford 
nor  the  second  Mrs.  Trafford  had  much  affection  in 
them.  Who  knows,  perhaps  the  marriage  was  the 
more  cloudless  for  that.  Instead  of  exploiting  each 
other,  as  loving  couples  too  often  do,  they  exploited 
their  fellow  beings,  he  downtown,  she  up.  As  he  grew, 
she  grew.  As  he  became  rich,  she  became  fashionable; 
ten  years  after  that  wedding,  hardy  indeed  would  have 
been  the  person  who  would  have  dared  remind  her  that 
she  had  once  lived  in  a  boarding  house. 

Conventionally,  it  is  man's  chief  business  to  get 
rich,  woman's  chief  business  to  keep  young  looking; 
the  Traffords  were  nothing  if  not  conventional.  Mrs. 
Trafford  appreciated  that  she  lived  in  a  land  where 
beauty  in  a  woman  counts  more  than  seventy-five  points 
in  the  hundred,  that  she  lived  in  a  city  where  it  counts 
at  least  ninety  points  in  the  hundred.  She  had  no  use 
for  her  charms  beyond  mere  show — show,  the  sole  pur 
pose  of  all  she  did  and  thought  and  was.  She  took 
herself  in  hand,  after  the  true  New  York  fashion,  at 
Time's  first  sign  of  malice.  She  had  herself  cared  for 
from  top  to  toe,  and  that  intelligently — no  credulous 
prey  to  fake  beautifiers  was  Lily  Trafford.  When 
Trafford  was  fifty-two,  though  he  did  not  look  so  much 
by  half  a  dozen  years,  his  wife  was  thirty-eight,  and 
looked  less  than  thirty. 

Nor  had  she  neglected  her  other  duties  as  woman 
and  wife.  Her  husband  was  rich ;  she  had  learned  how 
to  spend  money.  The  theory  among  those  who  have 
no  money  "  to  speak  of,"  and  never  had,  is  that  every 
one  is  born  with  the  knowledge  how  to  spend  money. 
In  fact,  there  are  thousands  who  know  how  to  make 

133 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

money  where  there  are  ten  who  know  how  to  spend  it. 
The  whole  mercantile  class  fattens  on  the  ignorance 
of  this  neglected  science — fattens  by  selling  at  high 
prices  to  those  who  do  not  know  what  they  want  or 
how  much  they  should  pay.  Mrs.  Trafford  knew  ex 
actly  what  she  wanted — she  wanted  to  be  fashionable. 
She  had  fashion  as  an  instinct,  as  a  passion.  She 
wanted  the  "  latest  thing  "  in  mental  and  material  fur 
nishings.  She  cared  nothing  for  knowledge ;  she  was 
determined  to  have  culture,  because  culture  was  fash 
ionable.  She  had  no  ideas  of  her  own,  and  wanted 
none;  she  followed  the  accepted  standards.  It  was  the 
fashion  to  go  to  church ;  she  went  to  church.  It  was 
the  fashion  to  be  a  little  skeptical ;  she  was  cautiously 
skeptical.  It  was  the  fashion  to  live  in  a  palace;  in 
a  palace  she  lived.  She  went  to  the  fashionable  dress 
makers  and  art  stores  and  book  stores.  She  filled  her 
house  with  things  recommended  by  the  fashionable 
architects.  She  had  the  plainest  personal  tastes  in 
food,  but  she  ate  three  fashionable  meals  a  day;  and, 
though  she  loved  coffee  with  cream,  took  it  with  hot 
milk  in  the  mornings  and  black  after  lunch  and  dinner, 
because  cream  was  unfashionable.  Yes,  Mrs.  Trafford 
knew  how  to  spend  money.  The  science  of  spending 
money  is  getting  what  you  want  at  as  low  a  price  as 
anybody  can  get  it.  Mrs.  Trafford  got  exactly  what 
she  wanted,  and  got  it  with  no  more  waste  than  is  in 
evitable  in  spending  large  sums  with  people  who  lie 
awake  of  nights  plotting  to  get  more  than  they  are 
entitled  to. 

As  Armstrong  looked  round  the  salon  into  which 
he  was  shown,  it  seemed  to  him  he  had  never  seen  any 
thing  so  magnificent  or  so  stiff.  Trafford  was  housed 
exactly  like  a  king — and,  like  a  king,  he  had  the  air 

134 


AT  MRS.    TR AFFORD 'S 


of  being  a  temporary  tenant  of  the  magnificence  about 
him.  It  was  the  typical  great  house — a  crude,  barbaric 
structure,  an  exhibition  of  wealth  with  no  individuality, 
no  originality,  ludicrous  to  the  natural  eye,  yet  melan 
choly  ;  for,  from  every  exhibit  of  how  little  wealth  buys 
there  protrudes  the  suggestion  of  how  much  it  has  de 
prived  how  many.  In  such  displays  the  absence  of 
price  marks  is  a  doubtful  concession  to  canons  of  taste 
which  in  no  wise  apply ;  the  price  mark  would  at  once 
answer  the  only  question  that  forms  in  the  mind  as  the 
glance  roams.  The  Traffords,  however,  were  as  con 
tent  as  royalty  in  their  uncomfortable  and  unsightly 
surroundings ;  they  had  attained  the  upper  class 
heaven. 

"  So  glad  you  could  come,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford 
graciously  to  Armstrong.  Her  toilet  was  the  extreme 
of  the  fashion,  and  without  a  glimmer  of  individual 
taste.  "  This  is  my  small  daughter."  And  she  smiled 
up  at  the  thin,  pretty  young  woman  beside  her  in 
diaphanous  white  over  palest  yellow.  "  We  are  to  be 
six  this  evening,"  she  went  on.  "  And  Boris  is  coming 
— you  know  Boris  Raphael?  " 

"  Never   heard   of  him,"   said  Armstrong. 

Miss  Trafford  smiled  broadly.  Mrs.  Trafford  was 
pained,  and  showed  it — not  at  her  daughter's  smile,  for 
it  she  did  not  see,  but  at  Armstrong's  ignorance  of  so 
important  a  fact  in  the  current  fashionable  fund  of 
information.  Ignorance  of  literature,  science,  art, 
politics,  of  everything  of  importance  in  the  great 
world,  would  not  have  disturbed  Mrs.  Trafford;  but 
ignorance  of  any  of  the  trivialities  it  was  fashionable 
to  know — what  vulgarity,  what  humiliation !  "  He 
is  the  painter  of  portraits,"  she  explained.  "  Every 
one  has  him.  He  gets  really  fabulous  prices." 

135 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  An  American  ?  "  inquired  Armstrong. 

"  I  believe  he  was  born  here.  But,  of  course,  he 
has  spent  his  life  abroad.  We  are  so  commercial.  No 
artist  could  develop  here." 

"  Is  there  any  place  on  earth  where  they  don't  take 
all  they  can  get  ?  "  asked  Armstrong.  "  Does  Raphael 
refuse  '  fabulous  prices  '  ?  " 

Miss  Trafford  laughed.  Mrs.  Trafford  looked 
pained  again.  "  Oh — but  the  spirit  is  different  over 
there,"  she  replied  vaguely. 

"  Where  the  men  won't  marry  unless  the  girl 
brings  a  dowry?  " 

"  The  customs  are  different  from  ours,"  said  Mrs. 
Trafford,  patiently  and  pleasantly.  "  Raphael  has 
done  me  a  great  honor.  He  has  asked  to  paint  me." 

"  Naturally,  he's  on  the  lookout  for  all  the  j  obs 
he  can  get,"  said  Armstrong,  his  mind  really  on  his 
impending  treaty  with  her  husband — arranging  the 
articles,  what  he  would  give,  what  demand  in  exchange. 
The  instant  the  words  were  out  he  realized  their  in 
excusable  rudeness.  He  reddened  and  looked  awk 
wardly  big  and  piteously  apologetic. 

Trafford,  who  had  been  stroking  the  huge  deer- 
hound  on  the  tiger  skin  before  the  fire,  now  burst  in. 
"What's  that  about  Raphael?  Did  my  wife  tell  you 
she  has  at  last  persuaded  him  to  paint  her  picture  ?  " 

A  miserable  silence.  Miss  Trafford  had  to  turn 
away  to  restrain  her  laughter.  Mrs.  Trafford  became 
white,  then  scarlet,  then  white  again. 

"  The  airs  he's  putting  on ! "  continued  Trafford, 
unconscious.  "  Why,  they  tell  me  his  father  was  a 
banana  peddler  and " 

"Mr.  Raphael,"  announced  the  butler,  holding 
aside  one  of  the  ten-thousand-dollar  portieres. 

136 


AT   MRS.    TRAFFORD'S 


"  Oh— Raphael !  "  exclaimed  Trafford,  with  enthu 
siasm. 

"  So  glad  you  could  come,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford, 
gracious  and  sweet. 

"  Miss  Carlin,"  announced  the  butler. 

Armstrong,  studying  Raphael's  face,  which  in 
stantly  attracted  him,  wheeled  toward  the  door  at  the 
sound  of  this  name  as  if  he  had  been  shot  at  from 
that  direction.  He  might  not  have  been  noted,  had 
he  not  straightway  got  a  far  greater  shock.  In  aban 
don  of  sheer  amazement  he  stared  at  the  figure  in  the 
doorway — Neva,  completely  transformed  in  the  two 
years  since  he  saw  her.  The  revolution  in  her  whole 
mode  of  life  and  thought  had  produced  results  as 
striking  inwardly  as  outwardly. 

In  America,  transformations  usually  cause,  at 
most,  only  momentary  surprise;  for  almost  everyone 
above  the  grade  of  day  laborer,  and  not  a  few  there, 
changes  his  environment  completely,  not  once  but 
several  times  in  the  lifetime,  readjusting  himself  to 
his  better  or  worse  circumstances.  After  an  interval 
one  sees  the  man  or  the  woman  he  has  known  as  poor 
and  obscure;  success  has  come  in  that  interval,  and 
with  it  all  the  external  and  internal  results  of  suc 
cess.  Or,  failure  has  come,  and  with  it  that  general 
sloughing  away  and  decay  which  is  the  inevitable  con 
sequence  of  profound  discouragement;  the  American, 
most  adaptable  of  human  beings,  accepts  defeat  as 
facilely  as  victory. 

In  Neva's  case,  however,  the  phenomenon  was 
somewhat  different.  It  is  not  often  that  circum 
stance  drags  an  obstinately  retiring  person  into  ac 
tivity,  breaks  the  shell  and  compels  that  which  was 
hidden  to  become  open,  to  develop,  to  dominate.  The 
10  137 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

transformation  of  Neva  seemed  somewhat  as  if  a 
-violet  had  become  a  tall-stemmed  rose;  it  was,  in  fact, 
:no  miracle  of  transubstantiation,  but  one  of  those 
perfectly  natural  marvels,  like  the  metamorphosis  of 
grub  into  butterfly.  Armstrong  had  seen  the  chrysa 
lis,  all  unsuspicious  of  its  true  nature;  now,  with  no 
knowledge  of  the  stages  between,  he  was  seeing  the 
ethereal  beauty  the  chrysalis  had  so  securely  concealed. 
It  must  be  said,  however,  that  Boris,  though  he  had 
seen  the  day-to-day  change,  the  gradual  unfolding  of 
wing  and  color  and  grace,  was  almost  as  startled  as 
the  big,  matter-of-fact  Westerner.  In  the  evolution 
of  every  living  thing,  there  comes  a  definite  moment 
when  the  old  vanishes  and  the  new  bursts  forth  in  full 
splendor — when  bud  ceases  to  be  bud  and  is  in  a  twin 
kling  leaf  or  bloom,  when  awkward  boy  or  girl  is  all 
:at  once  graceful  youth,  full  panoplied.  Neva,  know 
ing  she  was  to  see  Armstrong  that  night,  had  put 
:forth  the  last  crucial  effort,  had  for  the  first  time 
spread  wide  to  the  light  her  new  plumage  of  body 
and  soul.  And  there  stood  in  the  doorway  of  Traf- 
ford's  salon  the  woman  grown,  radiant  in  that  lu 
minous  envelope  which  crowns  certain  kinds  of  beauty 
with  the  supreme  charm  of  mystery. 

She  paused  an  instant  before  Armstrong's  stare, 
•which  was  disconcerting  the  whole  company.  In  spite 
of  her  forewarned  self-control,  her  eyes  sparkled 
•and  her  cheeks  flushed;  that  stare  of  his  was  the 
triumph  of  which  she  had  dreamed.  She  came  on  to 
lier  hostess  and  extended  her  hand.  Mrs.  Trafford, 
who  prided  herself  on  being  the  "  complete  hostess," 
«qual  to  any  emergency,  for  once  almost  lost  her  head ; 
something  in  Armstrong's  face,  in  his  eyes,  raised  in 
3ier  the  dread  of  a  scene,  and  she  showed  it.  But  Neva 

138 


AT   MRS.    TR  AFFORD3  S 


restored  her — Neva,  tranquil  and  graceful,  a  "  study 
in  lengths  "  to  delight  the  least  observant  eye  now, 
her  faintly  shimmering  evening  dress  of  pale  gray 
leaving  bare  her  beautiful  arms  and  shoulders  and 
neck,  and  giving  full  opportunity  to  the  poise  of  her 
small  head  with  its  bright  brown  crown  of  thick,  vital 
hair ;  and  her  eyes,  gleaming  from  the  long,  narrow 
lids,  seemed  at  once  to  offer  and  refuse  the  delights 
such  words  as  youth  and  passion  conjure. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  can't  keep  from  staring,'* 
said  Miss  Trafford  in  an  undertone  to  Armstrong,  with 
intent  to  recall  him  to  himself. 

With  that,  he  did  contrive  to  get  himself  together; 
Mrs.  Trafford  introduced  him  to  Neva,  not  without  a 
nervous  flutter  in  her  voice.  Neva  put  her  hand  out 
to  him.  "How  d'ye  do,  Horace?"  she  said,  with  a 
faint  smile,  neither  friendly  nor  cold. 

Armstrong  took  her  hand  without  being  able  to 
speak.  Mrs.  Trafford  was  about  to  say,  "  You  have 
met  before,"  when  it  occurred  to  her  that  this  might 
precipitate  the  scene.  Dinner  was  announced;  she 
paired  her  guests — Lona  with  Armstrong,  Neva  with 
Trafford,  she  herself  taking  Boris. 

"Did  you  see  him  stare  at  her?"  she  asked,  on 
the  way  to  the  dining  room. 

Boris  laughed  unpleasantly.  "  And  so  should  I, 
in  the  circumstance,"  replied  he. 

"  What  circumstance?  " 

"  Seeing  such  a  beautiful  woman  so  suddenly,"  he 
said,  after  just  an  instant's  hesitation. 

Mrs.  Trafford  looked  shrewdly  at  him.  "  Is  it  a 
scandal?  "  she  asked,  at  the  same  time  sending  a  beam 
ing  glance  at  Armstrong  who  was  entering  the  door  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room  with  her  daughter  on  his  arm. 

139 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Boris. 

The  dinner  went  placidly  enough.  Raphael  had 
been  almost  as  startled  as  Armstrong  when  Neva  ap 
peared  in  the  door  of  the  salon,  though  he  did  not 
show  it.  Expert  in  women's  ways,  he  knew  it  was  for 
some  specific  reason  that  she  had  thus  taken  unprece 
dented  pains  with  her  toilet.  Why  had  she  striven 
to  outshine  herself?  Obviously  because  she  wished  to 
punish  the  man  who  had  so  stupidly  failed  to  appre 
ciate  her.  A  perfectly  natural  desire,  a  perfectly 
natural  seizing  of  a  not  to  be  neglected  opportunity 
for  revenge.  Still —  Boris  could  not  but  wish  she 
had  shown  some  such  desire  to  dazzle  him;  he  would 
have  preferred  that  she  had  been  absolutely  indifferent 
to  the  man  of  whom  he  often  thought  with  twinges 
of  rakish  jealousy.  He  affected  high  spirits,  was 
never  more  brilliant,  and  helped  Neva  to  shine  by  giv 
ing  her  every  encouragement  and  chance  to  talk  and 
talk  well. 

In  contrast  to  them,  Armstrong  was  morosely 
silent ;  occasionally  he  ventured  a  glance  across  the 
table  at  Neva,  and  each  time  into  his  face  came  the 
expression  that  suggested  he  was  suspecting  his  eyes 
or  his  mind  of  playing  him  a  wildly  fantastic  trick. 
So  far  as  he  could  judge,  Neva  was  not  at  all  dis 
turbed  by  his  presence.  Raphael  went  upstairs  soon 
after  the  women;  he  refused  to  be  bored  with  the 
business  conversation  into  which  TrafFord  had  drawn 
Armstrong. 

"  Well,"  said  Trafford,  the  moment  Boris  was  out 
of  the  way,  "  what  have  you  decided  to  do  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  in  with  you,"  said  Armstrong. 

TrafFord  rubbed  his  hands  and  his  eyes  sparkled — 
like  a  hungry  circuit  rider  at  sight  of  the  heaping 

140 


AT  MRS.    TRAFFORD'S 


platter  of  fried  chicken.  "  Good !  Splendid !  "  he  ex 
claimed.  He  glanced  at  butler  and  waiters  busy 
clearing  the  sideboard;  but  they  took  no  hints  that 
would  delay  their  freedom,  and  Trafford  did  not  dare 
give  an  order  that  would  put  them  out  of  humor  and 
the  domestic  machinery  out  of  gear.  "  No  matter," 
said  he.  "  This  isn't  the  time  to  talk  business.  We'll 
arrange  the  details  to-morrow.  Or,  shall  we  adjourn 
to  my  study  ?  " 

"  I'll  come  to  you  in  a  few  days  when  I  have  my 
plans  formed,"  said  Armstrong.  "  Wait  till  you  hear 
from  me."  He  tossed  his  cigar  into  a  plate.  "  Let's 
go  upstairs.  I  must  leave  soon." 

Meanwhile,  Raphael,  in  the  salon,  had  bent  over 
Neva  and  had  said  in  an  undertone,  "  You  would  like 
to  leave?  You  can  have  my  cab — it's  waiting.  I'll 
take  yours  when  it  comes." 

"  Thanks,  no,"  answered  Neva.  "  I'm  not  the  least 
in  a  hurry." 

Her  tone  ruffled  him.  His  ears  had  been  sentinels 
and  his  eyes  scouts  from  the  instant  he  knew  who  Arm 
strong  was  and  with  one  expert  glance  took  his  meas 
ure  mentally  and  physically.  He  appreciated  that  the 
female  method  in  judging  men  is  not  at  all  like  the 
male  method,  is  wholly  beyond  the  comprehension  of 
a  man ;  still,  he  could  not  believe  that  any  man  of  the 
material,  commercial  type  would  attract  a  sincerely  ar 
tistic,  delicate,  spiritual  woman  like  Neva  Carlin.  He 
could  not,  as  an  expert  in  mankind,  deny  to  Armstrong 
a  certain  charm  of  the  force  that  in  repose  is  like  the 
mountain  and  in  action  is  like  the  river.  "  But," 
reasoned  he,  "  she  knows  him  through  and  through, 
knows  him  as  he  is.  For  her,  he's  a  commonplace  tale 
that  is  told." 

141 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

As  Armstrong  entered,  his  glance  darted  for  Neva. 
It  had  first  to  meet  Raphael  smiling  f  riendlily  and  sug 
gesting  anything  but  the  man  on  guard,  every  nerve 
alert.  Armstrong  frowned  frank  dislike.  He  felt  at 
a  disadvantage  before  this  superelegantly  dressed  and 
delicately  perfumed  personage.  While  he  was  not 
without  experience  with  women,  he  had  known  only 
those  who  had  sought  him;  his  expertness  was,  thus, 
wholly  in  receiving  advances  and  turning  them  to  such 
advantage  as  suited  his  fancy,  not  at  all  in  making 
overtures  or  laying  siege.  He  saw  at  once  that  Boris 
was  a  master  at  the  entire  game  of  man  and  woman ; 
he  recalled  Neva's  passion  for  things  artistic,  her  rev 
erence  for  those  great  in  artistic  achievement;  despite 
his  prejudice  against  Boris,  he  measured  him  as  a  man 
of  distinction  and  force.  It  seemed  to  him  that  this 
handsome  master-painter,  so  masculine  in  feature  and 
figure,  so  effeminately  dandified  in  dress  and  manner, 
this  fascinating  specimen  of  the  artistic  sex  that  is 
the  quintessence  of  both  sexes,  must  have  hypnotized 
his  wife.  Yes,  his  wife !  For,  now  that  Neva's  re 
vealed  personality  inspired  in  him  wonder,  awe,  desire, 
he  began  to  think  of  her  as  his  property.  He  had 
quit  title  under  a  misapprehension ;  he  had  been 
cheated,  none  the  less  because  the  cheater  happened  to 
be  himself. 

Boris,  ignoring  his  unfriendliness,  advanced,  en 
gaged  him,  drew  in  Lona  Trafford.  Before  he  could 
contrive  a  move  toward  Neva,  Boris  had  him  securely 
trapped  in  a  far  corner  of  the  salon  with  Lona  as 
his  watchful  keeper,  and  was  himself  retreated  in 
triumph  to  sit  beside  Neva.  So  thoroughly  had  Boris 
executed  the  maneuver,  Armstrong  was  seated  at  such 
.an  angle  that  he  could  not  even  see  Neva  without 

142 


AT   MRS.    TR AFFORD 'S 


rudely  twisting  away  from  Miss  Trafford.  He  did  not 
appreciate  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  deliberate 
strategy.  But  Miss  Trafford  did ;  and  when  she  found 
herself  unable  to  fix  his  attention,  she  took  a  venge 
ful  pleasure  in  keeping  him  trapped,  enjoying  his 
futile  struggles,  his  ill-concealed  wrath,  his  uncon 
cealed  jealousy. 

That  was  a  miserable  half  hour  he  passed;  Lona 
talked  of  the  painter  and  Neva — "  his  latest  flame — 
you  know,  he's  very  inconstant — has  the  most  dreadful 
reputation.  Mamma  wouldn't  let  him  speak  half  a. 
dozen  words  to  me,  unless  she  was  there.  They  dc* 
say  that  Miss  Carlin  is  making  a  saint  of  him — though, 
no  doubt  it's  a  disguise  that'll  be  thrown  off  as  soon 
as —  I  don't  admire  that  sort  of  man,  do  you,  Mr. 
Armstrong?  I  like  a  simple,  honest  man — "  This 
with  a  look  that  said  she  regarded  Armstrong  as 
such — "  a  man  that  doesn't  understand  feminine  tricks 
and  the  ways  to  circumvent  women."  There  her  cyni 
cal  eyes  smiled  amusement  at  Armstrong's  ruddy,  lip- 
biting  jealousy. 

"  It's  rather  cold,  so  far  from  the  fire,"  said  Arm 
strong,  rising. 

Lona  rose  also;  she  saw  that  Neva  was  about  to 
go.  "  Just  a  minute,"  said  she.  "  Miss  Carlin  is 
leaving.  You  can  take  the  sofa  as  soon  as  she's  out 
of  the  way." 

Armstrong  wheeled,  left  Miss  Trafford  precipi 
tately.  He  was  barely  in  time  to  intercept  Neva,  on 
her  way  to  the  door  with  TrafFord.  "  Good  night, 
Horace,"  she  said.  He  could  only  stand  and  stare. 
For  the  first  time  she  looked  directly  at  him,  her  eyes 
full  upon  his.  He  remembered  that  in  the  old  days, 
when  their  eyes  occasionally  met  thus,  hers  had  made 

143 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

him  vaguely  uncomfortable ;  he  understood  why,  now. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  this  look  she  was  giving 
him — this  look  from  long,  narrow  lids,  this  look  that 
searched  him  out,  thrilled  him  with  longing  and  with 
fear?  He  could  not  fathom  it;  he  only  knew  that 
never  before  in  his  entire  singly  intent,  ambitious  life 
had  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that  there  might  be 
some  other  worth  while  game  than  the  big  green  tables 
of  finance,  some  other  use  for  human  beings  than  as 
pawns  in  that  game.  She  drew  her  hand  away  from 
his  confused,  detaining  grasp,  and  was  gone,  leaving 
him  an  embarrassed,  depressed,  ludicrous  figure,  to  be 
later  the  jeer  of  his  own  sense  of  humor. 

Before  Trafford  had  time  to  return  from  escort 
ing  her  to  her  cab,  Armstrong  took  leave.  A  brief 
silence  in  the  salon;  then  Mrs.  Tr afford  said  to 
Raphael,  "  There  is  some  mystery  here,  which  I  feel 
compelled  to  ask  you  to  explain.  You  introduced 
Miss  Carlin  to  me."  She  noted  her  daughter  listening 
eagerly.  "  Lona,  you  would  better  go.  Good  night, 
my  child." 

Boris  looked  the  amusement  this  affectation 
roused  in  him.  "  Don't  send  her  away,  Mrs.  Trafford. 
The  mystery  is  quite  respectable.  Miss  Carlin  used 
to  be  Mrs.  Armstrong.  As  there  were  no  children, 
she  took  her  own  name,  when  it  became  once  more 
the  only  name  she  was  entitled  to." 

"  He  divorced  her ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Trafford, 
rearing.  "  And  you  brought  her  to  my  house !  "  She 
held  it  axiomatic  that  no  woman  would  divorce  a  well- 
appearing  breadwinner  of  the  highest  efficiency. 

"  She  divorced  him"  corrected  Raphael. 

"  I  can't  believe  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Trafford.  "  If 
she  did,  he  let  her,  to  avoid  scandal." 

144 


AT  MRS.    TR AFFORD 'S 


"  Not  at  all,"  protested  Boris.  "  They  come  from 
a  state  which  has  queer,  sentimental  divorce  laws, 
made  for  honest  people  instead  of  for  hypocrites. 
They  didn't  get  on  well;  so,  the  law  let  them  go  their 
separate  ways — since  God  had  obviously  not  joined 
them." 

"  I  must  look  into  it,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford,  with 
a  frown  at  Raphael  and  a  significant  side  glance 
toward  Lona.  "  People  in  our  position  can't  afford 
to " 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  good  evening,"  said 
Boris  with  a  formal  bow.  And  before  she  could  re 
cover  herself,  he  was  gone. 

"  You  have  made  a  mess,  mamma ! "  exclaimed 
Lona. 

Mrs.  Trafford  seemed  on  the  verge  of  hysterics. 
"  Was  there  ever  a  more  unfortunate  evening !  "  she 
cried.  Then :  "  But  he'd  not  have  been  so  touchy,  if 
there  wasn't  something  wrong." 

Trafford  came  sauntering  in  and  she  explained  the 
situation  to  him.  He  flamed  in  alarm  and  anger,  im 
patiently  cut  off  her  explanations  with,  "  You've  got 
to  straighten  this,  Lily.  If  Armstrong  should  hear 
of  it,  and  be  offended,  it'd  cost  me — I  can't  tell  you 
how  much !  " 

Mrs.  Trafford  looked  as  miserable  as  she  felt. 
"  I'll  send  off  a  note  apologizing  to  Raphael  this  very 
night,"  she  said.  "  And  in  the  morning  I'll  ask  her 
to  the  opera.  Why  didn't  you  warn  me  ?  " 

"  Warn ! "  exclaimed  Trafford,  bustling  up  and 
down,  and  plucking  at  his  neat  little  beard.  "  How 
was  I  to  know?  But  I  supposed  you'd  understand  that 
we  never  have  anybody — any  man — here  unless  he's  of 

use.     It's  all  very  well  to  be  strict,  Lily ;  but " 

145 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Let's  not  talk  about  it,"  wailed  his  wife.  "  I'll 
do  my  best  to  straighten  it.  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink 
to-night." 

Lona — "  the  child  " — slipped  away,  a  smile  on  her 
lips — a  cynical  smile  which  testified  that  the  lesson  in 
life  as  it  is  lived  in  the  full  stench  of  "  respectability," 
had  not  failed  to  impress  her. 


146 


XII 


FOR  the  first  time  in  Armstrong's  career,  it  was 
imperative  that  he  concentrate  his  whole  mind;  and, 
for  the  first  time,  he  could  not.  In  the  midst  of  con 
ferences  with  Trafford,  with  Atwater  even,  his  atten 
tion  would  wander ;  forgetful  of  his  surroundings,  he 
would  stare  dazedly  at  a  slim,  yet  not  thin,  figure, 
framed  in  the  heavy  purple  and  gold  curtains  of  a 
doorway — the  figure  of  his  former  wife,  of  the  re 
created  Neva,  on  the  threshold  of  Mrs.  Trafford's 
salon.  He  had  the  habit  of  judging  himself  impar 
tially,  and  this  newly  developed  weakness  of  character, 
as  strange  in  its  way  as  the  metamorphosis  of  Neva, 
roused  angry  self-contempt;  but  the  apparition  per 
sisted,  and  also  his  inability  to  keep  his  thoughts  off  it. 

Passion  he  understood,  but  not  its  compulsion,  still 
less  its  tyranny.  Love — except  love  of  mother  and 
child — he  regarded  as  a  myth  that  foozled  only  the 
foolish.  He  had  sometimes  thought  he  would  like  a 
home,  a  family ;  but  a  glance  at  the  surface  of  the 
lives  of  his  associates  was  enough  to  put  such  senti 
mentalities  out  of  his  head.  He  saw  the  imbecilities 
of  extravagance  and  pretense  into  which  the  wife  and 
daughters  plunged  as  soon  as  the  wealth  of  the  head 
of  the  family  permitted,  the  follies  into  which  they 
dragged  the  "  old  man  " — how,  in  his  own  home,  just 

147 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

as  downtown,  he  was  not  a  man  but  a  purse.  No, 
Armstrong  had  no  disposition  to  become  the  drudge 
and  dupe  of  a  fashionable  family.  So,  in  his  life  he 
had  put  woman  in  what  he  regarded  as  her  proper 
place  of  merest  incident.  He  spent  a  great  deal  of 
time  with  women — that  is,  a  great  deal  for  so  busy 
a  man.  He  liked  women  better  than  he  liked  men  be 
cause  with  them  he  was  able  to  relax  and  lower  his 
guard,  where  with  men  he  always  had  the  sense  of 
the  game.  For  intelligence  in  women  he  cared  not  at 
all.  Beauty  and  a  good  disposition — those  were  the 
requirements.  It  was  not  as  at  a  woman  that  he  looked 
at  this  unbanishable  figure — not  with  the  longing, 
thought  he,  or  even  the  admiration  of  the  masculine 
for  the  feminine — simply  with  wonder,  a  stupid  stare, 
an  endless  repetition  of  the  query,  Who  is  it  ? 

His  vanity  of  self -poise  was  even  more  hard  pressed 
to  explain  why  he  always  saw,  in  sinister  background 
to  the  apparition  of  Neva,  the  handsome,  dandified 
face  of  Boris,  strong,  sensual,  triumphant.  He  re 
called  what  Lona  Trafford  had  said  of  the  painter. 
Yes,  that  explained  it.  Neva,  guileless,  inexperienced 
in  the  ways  of  the  world,  was  being  ensnared,  all  un 
suspicious,  by  this  rake.  And,  even  though  she  might, 
probably  would,  have  the  virtuous  fiber  to  stand  out 
against  him,  still  she  would  lose  her  reputation.  Al 
ready  people  must  be  talking  about  her;  so  far  as 
he  could  learn,  no  woman  could  associate  with  Raphael 
without  it  being  assumed  that  she  was  not  wasting 
his  time.  "  The  scented  scoundrel !  "  muttered  Arm 
strong.  "  Such  men  should  be  shot  like  mad  dogs." 
This  with  perfect  sincerity;  with  not  a  mocking  sug 
gestion  that  he  himself  had  been  as  active  in  the  same 
way  as  his  time  and  inclination  had  permitted. 

148 


WE   NEVER    WERE 


"  Really,  somebody  ought  to  warn  her,"  was  nat 
urally  the  next  step.  "  What  the  devil  do  her  people 
mean  by  letting  her  come  here  alone  ?  "  Yes,  some 
body  ought  to  warn  her.  Of  course,  he  couldn't  un 
dertake  the  office ;  his  motive  might  be  misunderstood. 
Still,  it  ought  to  be  done.  But —  "  Maybe,  he's 
really  in  love  with  her — wants  to  marry  her."  This 
reflection  so  enraged  him  that  he  was  in  grave  danger 
of  discovering  to  himself  the  truth  about  his  own  state 
of  mind.  "  Why  not?  "  he  hastily  retorted  upon  him 
self.  "  What  do  I  care  ?  I  must  be  crazy,  to  spend 
any  time  at  all  in  thinking  about  matters  that  are 
nothing  to  me." 

And  he  ordered  the  subject  out  of  his  mind.  He 
was  not  surprised  to  discover  that  it  had  not  obeyed 
him.  Now,  hatred  of  Boris  became  a  sort  of  obses 
sion  with  him.  He  found  in,  or  imagined  into,  his 
memory  picture  of  the  painter's  face,  many  repellant 
evidences  of  bad  character.  Whenever  he  heard  Ra 
phael's  name,  or  saw  it  in  a  newspaper,  he  paused 
irritably  upon  it ;  he  was  soon  in  the  habit  of  think 
ing  of  him  as  "  that  damned  hound."  Nor  did  this 
development  unsettle  his  confidence  in  his  freedom 
from  heart  interest  in  Neva ;  he  was  sure  his  antipathy 
toward  the  painter  was  the  natural  feeling  of  the 
normal  man  toward  the  abnormal.  "  Where's  the  man 
that  wouldn't  despise  a  creature  who  decks  himself 
out  with  jewelry  and  wears  rolling  collars  because  he 
wants  to  show  off  his  throat,  and  scents  himself  like 
a  man-chasing  woman?" 

The  longer  he  revolved  it,  the  more  clearly  he 
saw  the  necessity  that  she  be  warned — and  the  cer 
tainty  that  his  warning  would  be  misunderstood.  "  I 
couldn't  speak  of  him  without  showing  my  feelings, 

149 


LIGHT-FIN GERED    GENTRY 

and  women  always  misinterpret  that  sort  of  thing." 
He  looked  up  her  address;  and,  as  he  was  walking 
to  his  hotel  from  the  office  in  the  late  afternoon,  or 
was  strolling  about  after  dinner,  developing  his  vast 
and  complex  scheme  to  pile  high  the  ruins  of  his 
enemies  that  he  might  rise  the  higher  upon  them,  he 
would  find  himself  almost  or  quite  at  the  entrance 
to  the  apartment  house  where  she  lived.  "  I  think 
I  must  be  going  crazy,"  he  said  to  himself  one  night, 
when  he  had  twice  within  two  hours  drawn  himself 
from  before  her  door.  Then  a  brilliant  idea  came 
to  him :  "  I'll  go  to  see  her,  and  end  this.  To  put  a 
woman  out  of  mind,  all  that's  necessary  is  to  give 
her  a  thorough,  impartial  look-over.  Also,  in  ten 
minutes'  talk  with  her  I  can  judge  whether  it  would 
be  worth  while  to  warn  her  against  that  damned 
hound." 

And  at  five  the  very  next  day  he  sent  up  his  card. 
"  She'll  send  down  word  she  isn't  at  home,"  he  de 
cided. 

He  was  astonished  when  the  boy  asked  him  into 
the  elevator;  he  was  confused  when  he  faced  at  her 
door  old  Molly  who  had  lived  with  them  out  in  Battle 
Field.  "  Step  in,  sir,"  she  said  stiffly,  as  if  he  were 
a  stranger,  and  an  unwelcome  one.  He  entered  with 
his  head  lowered  and  a  pink  spot  on  either  cheek. 
"What  the  devil  am  I  doing  here?"  he  muttered. 
"  Yes,  I'm  losing  my  mind." 

He  heard  indistinctly  a  man's  voice  in  the  room 
shut  off  by  the  curtains  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall — 
evidently  she  had  a  caller.  He  went  in  that  direction. 
"  Is  this  the  right  way  ?  "  he  called,  hesitating  at  the 
curtain. 

"  Yes,  here,"  came  in  Neva's  voice.  Had  he  not 
150 


WE   NEVER    WERE 


been  expecting  it,  he  would  hardly  have  recognized  it, 
so  vibrant  now  with  life. 

He  entered — found  her  and  Boris.  "  I  might  have 
known  he'd  be  here,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  No  doubt 
he's  always  here." 

He  ignored  Boris ;  Boris  stared  coldly  at  him. 
"  You  two  have  met  before  ?  "  said  Neva,  with  a  glance 
from  one  to  the  other,  her  eyes  like  those  of  a  nymph 
smiling  from  the  dark,  dense  foliage  round  a  forest 
pool.  "  Yes,  I  remember.  Let  me  give  you  some  tea, 
Horace." 

As  she  spoke  that  name,  Boris  set  down  his  cup 
abruptly.  He  debated  whether  he  should  defy  polite 
ness  and  outsit  the  Westerner.  He  decided  that  to 
do  so  would  be  doubly  unwise — would  rouse  resentment 
in  Neva,  who  had  had  the  chance  to  ask  him  to  spare 
her  being  left  alone  with  her  former  husband  and  had 
not ;  would  give  him  an  appearance  of  regarding  the 
Westerner  as  an  important,  a  dangerous  person. 
With  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  belied  the  smile  on  his 
lips,  he  shook  hands  with  her.  "  Until  Thursday,"  he 
said.  "  Don't  forget  you're  to  come  half  an  hour  ear 
lier."  And  Armstrong  was  alone  with  her,  was  entirely 
free  to  give  her  the  "  thorough,  impartial  lookover." 

He  saw  his  imagination  had  not  tricked  him  at 
Trafford's  —  his  imagination  and  her  dress.  The 
change  in  her  was  real,  was  radical,  miraculous,  in 
credible.  It  was,  he  realized,  in  part,  in  large  part, 
a  matter  of  dress,  of  tasteful  details  of  toilet — hair 
and  hands  and  skin  not  merely  clean  and  neat  but  thor 
oughly  cared  for.  This  change,  however,  was  evi 
dently  permanent,  was  outward  sign  of  a  new  order 
of  thought  and  action,  and  not  the  accident  of  one 
evening's  effort  as  he  had  been  telling  himself.  Their 

151 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

eyes  met  and  his  glance  hastily  departed  upon  a  slow 
tour  of  the  room;  in  what  contrast  was  it  to  his  own 
apartment,  which  cost  so  much  and  sheltered  him  so 
cheerlessly.  "  You  are  very  comfortable  here,"  said 
he.  "  That,  and  a  great  deal  more." 

"  The  Siersdorf  s  built  this  house,"  replied  she. 
"  They  have  ideas — especially  Narcisse."  He  thought 
her  wonderfully,  exasperatingly  self-possessed ;  his 
own  blood  was  throbbing  fiercely  and  her  physical 
charms  gave  him  the  delicious,  terrifying  tremors  of 
a  boy  on  the  brink  of  his  first  love  leap. 

"  What  is  it  that  women  " — he  went  on,  surprised 
by  the  steadiness  of  his  voice,  "  some  women — do  to 
four  walls,  a  floor,  and  ceiling,  and  a  few  pieces  of 
furniture  to  get  a  result  like  this?  It  isn't  a  question 
of  money.  The  more  one  spends  in  trying  to  get  it, 
the  worse  off  he  is." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  she,  "  that,  in  arranging  a 
place  to  live,  the  one  thing  to  consider  is  that  it's  not 
for  show  or  for  company,  but  to  live  in — day  and 
night,  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  and  in  all  kinds  of 
moods.  Make  it  to  suit  yourself,  and  then  it'll  fit  you 
and  be  like  you — and  those  who  care  for  you  can't 
but  be  pleased  with  it." 

"  It  does  resemble  you — here,"  said  he.  "  And  it 
doesn't  suggest  a  palace  or  an  antique  store  or  a  model 
room  in  a  furniture  display,  or  an  auction  room.  .  .  . 
You  work  hard  ?  " 

His  glance  had  come  back  to  her,  to  linger  on  the 
graceful  lines  of  her  throat  and  slim,  pallid  neck,  re 
vealed  by  the  rounding  out  of  her  tea-gown.  Never 
before  had  he  been  drawn  to  note  the  details  of  a 
woman's  costume.  He  would  not  have  believed  gar 
ments  could  be  surcharged  with  all  that  is  magnetic 


WE   NEVER    WERE 


in   feminine  to  masculine  as  was   this   dress   of   cream 
white  edged  with  narrow  bands  of  sable. 

"  It  would  be  impossible  not  to  work,  with  Raphael 
to  spur  one  on,"  was  her  reply.  Her  accent  in  pro 
nouncing  that  name  gave  him  the  desire  to  grind  some 
thing  to  powder  between  his  strong,  white  teeth. 
"  The  better  I  know  him,  the  more  wonderful  he 
seems,"  continued  she,  a  gleam  in  her  eyes  that  would 
have  made  a  Raphael  suspect  she  was  not  unaware  of 
the  emotion  Armstrong  was  trying  to  conceal.  "  I 
used  to  think  his  work  was  great ;  but  now  it  seems  a 
feeble  expression  of  him — of  ideas  he,  nor  no  man, 
could  ever  materialize  for  a  coarse  sense  like  sight." 

"  You  don't  like  his  work,  then  ?  "  said  Armstrong, 
pleased. 

Neva  looked  indignant.  "  He's  the  best  we  have — 
one  of  the  best  that  ever  lived,"  exclaimed  she.  "  I 
didn't  mean  his  work  by  itself  wasn't  great,  but  that 
it  seemed  inadequate,  compared  with  the  man.  When 
one  meets  most  so-called  great  men — your  great  men 
downtown  for  example — one  realizes  that  they  owe  al 
most  everything  to  their  slyness,  that  they  steal  the 
labor  of  the  hands  and  brains  of  others  who  are  su 
perior  to  them  in  every  way  but  craft  and  unscrupu- 
lousness.  A  truly  great  man,  a  man  like  Boris 
Raphael,  dwarfs  his  reputation." 

Armstrong  suspected  a  personal  thrust,  a  contrast 
between  him  and  Boris,  and  was  accordingly  uncom 
fortable.  "  I'd  like  to  see  some  of  your  work,"  said 
he,  to  shift  the  subject. 

"  Not  to-day.     I  don't  feel  in  the  mood." 

"  You  mean,  you  think  I  wouldn't  care  about  it — 
that  I  never  was  interested  in  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  admitted. 
11  153 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

He  laughed.  "  There's  truth  in  that."  He  was 
about  to  say,  "  I'm  still  just  as  much  of  a  Philistine 
as  I  used  to  be  " ;  but  he  refrained — something  in  her 
atmosphere  forbade  reminiscence  or  hint  of  any  con 
nection  whatever  between  their  present  and  their  past. 

"  You're  like  Boris  in  one  respect."  she  went  on. 
66  Nothing  interests  you  but  what  is  immediately  useful 
to  you." 

"  He's  over  head  in  love  with  you — isn't  he  ?  "  Arm 
strong  blurted. 

Her  face  did  not  change  by  so  much  as  a  shade. 
She  gave  not  an  outward  hint  that  she  knew  he  had 
rudely  flung  himself  against  the  barrier  between  them, 
to  enter  her  inmost  life  on  his  own  ruthless  terms  of 
masculine  intolerance  of  feminine  equality  of  right. 
She  continued  to  look  tranquilly  at  him,  and,  as  if  she 
had  not  heard  his  question,  said,  "  You  don't  go  out 
home  often  ?  " 

The  rebuke — the  severest,  the  completest,  a  woman 
can  give  a  man — flooded  his  face  with  scarlet  to  the 
line  of  his  hair.  "  Not — not  often,"  he  stammered. 
"  That  is,  not  at  all." 

"  Father  and  I  visit  with  each  other  every  few 
weeks,"  she  continued.  "  And  I  take  the  home  paper." 
She  nodded  toward  a  copy  of  the  Battle  Field  Banner, 
conspicuous  on  the  table  beside  him.  "  Even  the  ad 
vertisements  interest  me — 6  The  first  strawberries  now 
on  sale  at  Blodgett's  ' — you  remember  Blodgett,  with 
his  pale  red  hair  and  pale  red  eyes  and  pale  red  skin, 
and  always  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  with  a  tooth-brush, 
bristle-end  up,  in  his  vest  pocket?  And  I  read  that 
Sam  Warfield  and  his  sister  Mattie  4  Sundayed '  at 
Rabbit's  Run,  as  if  I  knew  and  loved  the  Warfields." 

This  connecting  of  her  present  self  with  her  past 
154 


"WE   NEVER    WERE" 


had  the  effect  of  restoring  him  somewhat.  It  estab 
lished  the  bond  of  fellow-townsmen  between  them.  "  I 
too  take  the  Banner"  said  he.  "  It's  like  a  visit  at 
home.  I  walk  the  streets  and  shake  hands  with  the  peo 
ple.  I'm  glad  I  come  from  there — but  I'm  glad  I  came." 

But  he  could  not  get  his  ease.  It  seemed  incredible, 
not,  as  he  would  have  expected,  that  they  were  such 
utter  strangers,  but  that  they  had  ever  been  even 
acquaintances.  Not  the  present,  but  the  past,  seemed 
a  trick  of  the  imagination  upon  his  sober  senses.  His 
feeling  toward  her  reminded  him  of  how  he  used  to 
regard  her  when  he,  delivering  parcels  from  his 
father's  little  store,  came  upon  her,  so  vividly  repre 
senting  to  him  her  father's  power  and  position  in 
the  community  that  he  could  not  see  her  as  a  person. 
While  she  continued  to  talk,  pleasantly,  courteously, 
as  to  an  acquaintance  from  the  same  town,  he  tried 
to  brace  himself  by  recalling  in  intimate  detail  all  they 
had  been  to  each  other;  but  by  no  stretch  of  fancy 
could  he  convince  himself  of  the  truth.  No,  it  was 
not  this  woman  who  had  been  his  wife,  who  had  dressed 
and  undressed  before  him  in  the  intimacy  of  old-fash 
ioned  married  life,  who  had  accepted  his  embraces,  who- 
had  borne  him  a  child. 

When  he  rose  to  go,  it  was  with  obvious  conscious 
ness  of  his  hands  and  feet ;  and  he  more  than  suspected 
her  of  deliberately  preventing  him  from  recovering 
himself.  "  She's  determined  I  shan't  fail  to  learn  my 
lesson,"  he  thought,  as  he  stood  in  the  outer  hall, 
waiting  for  the  elevator,  and  recovering  from  his 
awkward  exit. 

A  week,  almost  to  the  minute,  and  he  came 
again.  She  received  him  exactly  as  before — like  an 

155 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

old  acquaintance.  She  had  to  do  the  talking;  he  could 
only  look  and  listen  and  marvel.  "  I  certainly  wasn't 
so  stupid,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  I  wouldn't  have 
noticed  her  if  she  had  had  eyes  like  these,  or  such  teeth, 
or  that  form,  or  that  beautiful  hair."  He  would  have 
suspected  that  she  had  been  at  work  with  the  beauty 
specialists  who,  he  had  heard,  were  doing  a  smashing 
business  among  the  women,  had  he  not  seen  that  her 
manners,  her  speech,  the  use  of  her  voice,  everything 
about  her  was  in  keeping  with  her  new  physical  appear 
ance;  she  had  expanded  as  symmetrically  as  a  well- 
placed  sapling.  The  change  had  clearly  come  from 
within.  There  was  a  new  tenant  who  had  made  over 
the  whole  house,  within  and  without. 

What  seemed  to  him  miracle  was,  like  all  the 
miracles,  mysterious  only  because  the  long  chain  of 
causes  and  effects  between  beginning  and  end  was  not 
visible.  There  probably  never  lived  a  human  being  to 
whom  fate  permitted  a  full  development  of  all  his  pos 
sibilities — there  never  was  a  perfect  season  from  seed 
time  to  harvest.  The  world  is  one  vast  exhibit  of  im 
perfect  developments,  physical,  mental,  moral;  and  to 
get  the  standard,  the  perfection  that  might  be,  we  have 
to  take  from  a  thousand  specimens  their  best  qualities 
and  put  them  together  into  an  impossible  ideal — impos 
sible  as  yet.  For  one  fairly  well-rounded  human  being, 
satisfying  to  eye  and  mind  and  heart,  we  find  ten 
thousand  stunted,  blighted,  blasted.  Each  of  us  knows 
that,  in  other,  in  more  favorable,  in  less  unfavorable 
circumstances,  he  would  have  been  far  more  than  he 
is  or  ever  can  be.  But  for  Boris,  Neva  might  have 
gone  through  life,  not  indeed  as  stunted  a  development 
as  she  had  been  under  the  blight  of  her  unfortunate 
marriage,  but  far  from  the  rounded  personality,  pre- 
156 


WE   NEVER    WERE 


senting  all  sides  to  the  influences  that  make  for  growth 
and  responding  to  them  eagerly.  Heart,  and  his 
younger  brother,  Mind,  are  two  newcomers  in  a  uni 
verse  of  force.  They  fare  better  than  formerly ;  they 
will  fare  better  hereafter ;  but  they  are  still  like  in 
fants  exposed  in  the  wilderness.  Some  fine  natures 
have  enough  of  the  tough  fiber  successfully  to  make 
the  fight;  others,  though  they  lack  it,  persist  and 
prevail  by  chance — for  the  brute  pressure  of  force  is 
not  malign ;  it  crushes  or  spares  at  haphazard.  Again, 
there  are  fine  natures — who  knows?  perhaps  the  finest 
of  all,  the  best  minds,  the  best  hearts — that  either  can 
not  or  will  not  conform  to  the  conditions.  They 
wither  and  die — not  of  weakness,  since  in  this  world 
of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  the  fit  are  often  the  weak, 
the  unfit  the  strong.  All  around  us  they  are  wither 
ing,  dying,  like  the  good  seed  cast  on  stony  ground — 
the  good  minds,  the  good  hearts,  the  men  and  women 
needing  only  love  and  appreciation  and  encourage 
ment,  to  shine  forth  in  mental,  moral,  and  physical 
beauty.  Of  these  had  been  Neva. 

Boris,  with  eyes  that  penetrated  all  kinds  of  human 
surfaces  and  revealed  to  him  the  realities,  had  seen  at 
first  glance  what  she  was,  what  she  could  be,  what  she 
was  longing  and  striving  to  be  against  the  wellnigh 
hopeless  handicaps  of  shyness  and  inexperience  and 
solitude.  For  his  own  sybarite  purposes,  material  and 
selfish,  from  mere  wanton  appetite,  he  set  his  noble 
genius  to  helping  her ;  and  the  creative  genius  finds 
nothing  comparable  in  interest  to  the  development  of 
the  human  plant,  to  watching  it  sprout  and  put  forth 
leaves,  blossoms,  flowers,  perfume,  spread  into  an  in 
dividuality. 

Every  day  there  was  some  progress ;  and  now  and 
157 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

then,  as  in  all  nature,  there  were  days  when  overnight 
a  marvelous  beautiful  change  had  occurred.  In  scores 
on  scores  of  daily  conversations,  between  suggestions 
or  instructions  as  to  painting,  much  of  the  time  con 
sciously,  most  effectively  and  most  often  unconsciously, 
never  with  patronage  or  pedantry,  he  encouraged  and 
trained  her  to  learn  herself,  the  world,  the  inner  mean 
ing  of  character  and  action — all  that  distinguishes  fine 
senses  from  coarse,  the  living  from  the  numb,  all  that 
most  of  us  pass  by  as  we  pass  a  bank  of  wild  flowers — 
with  no  notion  of  the  enchanting  history  each  petal 
spreads  for  whoever  will  read.  Boris  cleared  away  the 
weeds;  he  softened  the  soil;  he  gave  the  light  and  the 
air  access.  And  she  grew. 

But  Armstrong  had  no  suspicion  of  this.  Indeed, 
if  he  had  been  told  that  Boris  Raphael,  cynic  and 
rake,  had  been  about  such  an  apparently  innocent  en 
terprise,  he  would  have  refused  to  believe  it ;  for  the 
Raphael  temperament,  the  temperament  that  is  soft 
and  savage,  sympathetic  to  the  uttermost  refinement  of 
delicacy  and  appreciation,  and  hard  and  cruel  as 
death,  was  quite  beyond  his  comprehension.  Arm 
strong,  looking  at  Neva,  saw  only  the  results,  not  the 
processes;  and  he  could  scarcely  speak  for  marvel,  as 
he  sat,  watching  and  listening.  "  May  I  come  again  ?  " 
he  asked,  when  he  felt  he  must  stay  no  longer. 

"  I'm   usually   at  home   after   five." 

Her  tone  was  conventional — alarmingly  so.  With 
a  pleading  gesture  of  both  hands  outstretched  and  a 
youthful  flush  and  frank  blue  eyes  entreating,  he  burst 
out,  "  I  have  no  friends — only  people  who  want  to  get 
something  out  of  me — or  whom  I  want  to  get  some 
thing  out  of.  Can't  you  and  I  be  friends  ?  " 

She  turned  abruptly  away  to  the  window.  It  was 
158 


"WE   NEVER    WERE 


so  long  before  she  answered  that  he  nerved  himself  for 
an  overwhelming  refusal  of  his  complete,  even  abject 
surrender  with  its  apology  for  the  past,  the  stronger 
and  sincerer  that  it  was  implied  and  did  not  dare  nar 
row  itself  to  words.  When  she  answered  with  a  hesi 
tating,  "  We  might  try,"  he  felt  as  happy  as  if  she 
had  granted  all  he  was  concealing  behind  that  request 
to  be  tolerated.  He  continued  in  the  same  tone  of 
humility,  "  But  your  life  is  very  different  from  mine. 
I  feared —  And  you  yourself —  I  can't  believe  we 
were  ever — anything  to  each  other." 

There  was  her  opportunity ;  she  did  not  let  it  slip. 
She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes.  "  We  never  were," 
she  said,  and  her  eyes  piercing  him  from  their  long, 
narrow  lids  and  deep  shadowing  lashes  forbade  him 
ever  to  forget  it  again. 

He  returned  her  gaze  as  if  mesmerized.  Finally, 
"  No,  we  never  were,"  he  slowly  repeated  after  her. 
And  again,  "  We  never  were,"  as  if  he  were  learning 
a  magic  password  to  treasures  beyond  those  of  the 
Forty  Thieves. 

He  drew  a  long  breath,  bowed  with  formal  con 
straint,  and  went;  and  as  he  walked  homeward  he  kept 
repeating  dazedly,  "  We  never  were — never !  " 


159 


XIII 

OVERLOOK  LODGE 

OVERLOOK  LODGE  was  Amy's  first  real  success  at 
amusing  those  interminable  hours  of  hers  that  were  like 
a  nursery  full  of  spoiled  children  on  a  rainy  day. 
Every  previous  device,  however  well  it  had  begun,  had 
soon  been  withered  and  killed  by  boredom,  nemesis  of 
idlers.  Overlook  was  a  success  that  grew.  It  began 
tediously ;  to  a  person  unaccustomed  to  fixing  the  mind 
for  longer  than  a  few  minutes,  the  technical  part  of 
architecture  comes  hard.  But  before  many  months 
Overlook  had  crowded  out  all  the  routine  distractions ; 
instead  of  its  being  a  mere  stop-gap  between  them, 
they  became  an  irritating  interruption  to  its  absorbing 
interest.  It  even  took  the  sharp  edge  off  her  discom 
fiture  with  Armstrong;  for  interest  is  the  mental 
cure-all.  She  dreaded  a  return  of  her  former  state, 
when  an  empty  hour  would  make  her  walk  the  floor, 
racking  her  brains  for  something  to  do ;  she  spun  this 
occupation  out  and  out.  Narcisse  Siersdorf  lost  all 
patience;  the  patience  of  feminine  with  feminine,  or 
of  masculine  with  masculine,  is  less  than  infinite. 
"  We'll  never  get  anywhere,"  she  protested.  "  You 
linger  over  the  smallest  details  for  weeks,  and  you  make 
all  sorts  of  absurd  changes  that  you  know  can't  stand, 
when  you  order  them." 

Narcisse  did  not  comprehend  the  situation.  Who 
160 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


with  so  much  to  do  that  the  months  fairly  flash  by,  can 
sympathize  with  the  piteous  plight  of  those  who  have 
nothing  to  do  and  all  the  time  in  the  world  to  do  it? 
Alois  was  not  so  unsympathetic.  When  the  Overlook 
plans  were  begun,  he  was  away ;  but,  soon  after  his 
return,  Amy  fastened  upon  him,  and  presently  he  had 
abandoned  all  other  business  of  the  firm  to  his  sister, 
that  he  might  devote  himself  to  making  this  work 
"really  great." 

"  Concentration's  the  thing,"  said  he  to  Narcisse, 
in  excusing  himself  to  her — and  to  himself.  "  Miss 
Fosdick  has  the  true  artistic  spirit.  She  is  willing  to 
let  me  give  full  play  to  my  imagination,  and  she  inter 
feres  only  to  help  and  to  stimulate.  I  feel  I  can  afford 
to  devote  an  unusual  amount  of  time  and  thought. 
When  the  work  is  done,  it'll  be  a  monument  to  us." 

Narcisse  gave  him  a  queer  glance,  and  her  laugh 
was  as  queer  as  her  eyes.  He  colored  and  frowned — 
and  continued  to  dawdle  with  Amy  over  the  plans. 
It  was  not  his  fault,  nor  hers,  that  the  actual  work 
finally  did  begin ;  it  was  the  teasing  of  her  father  and 
Hugo  about  these  endless  elaborations  of  preparation. 
"  When  Overlook  is  begun  "  became  the  family  syno 
nym  for  never.  She  and  Alois  suddenly  started  the 
work,  and  pushed  it  furiously. 

The  site  selected  had  nothing  to  recommend  it  but 
a  view  that  was  far  and  away  the  most  extensive  and 
varied  in  that  beautiful  part  of  New  Jersey — moun 
tains,  hills,  plains,  rivers,  lakes,  wildernesses,  villages, 
farms,  two  cities — a  vast  sweep  of  country,  like  a 
miniature  summary  of  the  earth's  whole  surface.  But 
Overlook  Hill  was  in  itself  barren  and  shapeless. 
Many  times,  rich  men  in  search  of  places  where  they 
could  see  and  be  seen  had  taken  it  under  considera- 

161 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

tion;  but  always  the  natural  difficulties  and  the  ex 
pense  had  discouraged  them.  Fosdick  had  bought  the 
site  before  investigating;  he  had  been  about  to  sell, 
when  Amy  took  Narcisse  out  there.  The  builder  in 
stantly  saw,  and  unfolded  to  Amy,  a  plan  for  making 
the  hill  as  wonderful  in  itself  as  in  its  prospect;  and 
that  original  inspiration  of  hers  was  the  basis  of  all 
that  was  done. 

When  Amy  and  Alois  did  set  to  work,  they  at  once 
put  into  motion  thousands  of  arms  and  wheels.  The  day 
came  when  the  whole  hill  swarmed  with  men  and  carts, 
with  engines  and  hoisting  machines  and  steam  diggers 
and  blasting  apparatus ;  and  the  quiet  valley  resounded 
with  the  uproar  of  the  labor.  Amy  took  rooms  at  the 
little  hotel  in  the  village,  had  them  costlily  refurnished, 
moved  in  with  a  cook  and  staff  of  servants ;  Alois  came 
out  every  morning,  even  Sundays.  The  country  people 
watched  the  performance  in  stupefaction;  it  was  their 
first  acquaintance  with  the  audacities  upon  nature 
which  modern  science  has  made  possible.  And  pres 
ently  they  saw  a  rugged  cliff  rise  where  there  had 
been  a  commonplace  steep,  saw  great  terraces,  slopes, 
levels,  gentle  grades,  supersede  the  northern  ascents  of 
Overlook.  The  army  of  workmen  laid  hold  of  that 
huge  upheaval  of  earth  and  rock  and  shaped  it  as  if 
it  had  been  a  handful  of  potter's  clay. 

Near  the  base  of  the  cliff  ran  the  river;  barges 
laden  with  stone  began  to  arrive — stone  from  Vermont 
and  from  Georgia,  from  Indiana,  from  Italy.  A  funic 
ular  clambered  up  the  surface  of  the  cliff;  soon  its 
cars  were  moving  all  day,  bearing  the  stone  to  the 
lofty  top  of  the  hill;  and  there  appeared  the  begin 
nings  of  foundations — not  of  a  house  alone,  but  of  a 
dozen  buildings,  widely  separated,  and  of  terraces  and 

162 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


lake  bottoms  and  bridges — for  a  torrent,  with  several 
short  falls  and  one  long  leap,  was  part  of  the  plans. 
At  the  same  time,  other  barges,  laden  with  earth  and 
with  great  uprooted  living  trees,  arrived  in  intermina 
ble  procession,  and  upon  bare  heights  and  slopes  now 
began  to  appear  patches  of  green,  clumps  of  wood. 
And  where  full-grown  transplanted  trees  were  not  set 
out,  saplings  were  being  planted  by  the  hundreds.  As 
the  stone  walls  rose,  sod  was  brought — acres  of  grass 
of  various  kinds ;  and  creepers  and  all  manner  of  wild 
growing  things  to  produce  wilderness  effects  in  those 
parts  of  the  park  which  were  not  to  be  constructed 
with  all  the  refinements  of  civilization.  These  marvels 
of  nature-manufacture  were  carried  on  in  privacy; 
for  the  very  first  work  had  been  to  enclose  the  hill, 
from  cliff  edge  round  to  cliff  edge  on  the  other  side, 
with  a  high  stone  wall,  pierced  by  only  two  entrances — 
one,  the  main  entrance  with  wrought-iron  gates  from 
France,  and  a  lodge;  the  other,  the  farm  or  service 
entrance,  nearer  the  village  and  the  river. 

Amy  and  Alois  had  begun  as  soon  as  the  frost  was 
out  of  the  ground.  By  June  they  had  almost  all  the 
trees  planted.  The  following  spring,  and  the  trans 
formation  was  complete.  Overlook  Hill,  as  it  had  been 
for  ages,  was  gone ;  in  its  place  was  a  graceful  height, 
clad  in  a  thousand  shades  of  green  and  capped  by  a 
glistening  white  bastionlike  building  half  hid  among 
trees  that  looked  as  if  they  had  been  there  a  century 
at  least.  Indeed,  except  the  buildings,  nothing  seemed 
new,  everything  seemed  to  belong  where  it  was,  to  have 
been  there  always.  The  sod,  the  tangle  of  creepers 
and  underbrush  on  the  cliff  and  in  the  ravines,  the  cliff 
and  the  ravines  themselves,  all  looked  like  the  product 
of  nature's  slow  processes.  The  masonry,  the  roads, 

163 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

the  drives — signs  of  age  and  of  long  use.  One  would 
have  said  that  the  Fosdicks  were  building  on  an  old 
place,  a  house  better  suited  to  modern  conditions  than 
some  structure,  dating  from  Revolutionary  days  at 
least,  which  must  have  stood  in  those  venerable  sur 
roundings  and  had  been  torn  down  to  make  room  for 
the  new. 

"  The  buildings  are  going  to  look  too  new,"  said 
Alois.  And  he  proceeded  to  have  them  more  artfully 
weather-stained. 

Narcisse  had  preached  the  superiority  of  small 
houses  to  Amy  until  she  had  convinced  her.  So,  Over 
look  Lodge,  while  not  so  small  as  it  looked,  was 
still  within  the  sane  limits  for  a  private  house.  And 
the  interior  arrangements — the  distribution  of  large 
rooms  and  less,  of  sunny  rooms,  of  windows,  of  stair 
ways,  of  closets — were  most  ingenious.  No  space  was 
wasted;  no  opportunity  for  good  views  from  the  win 
dows  or  for  agreeable  lines,  without  or  within,  was  neg 
lected.  Through  and  through  it  was  a  house  to  be 
lived  in,  a  house  whose  comfort  obtruded  and  whose 
luxury  retired. 

In  the  woodwork,  in  the  finishing  of  walls  and  ceil 
ings,  in  the  furniture,  Alois  followed  out  the  general 
scheme  of  the  appearance  of  an  old-established  resi 
dence,  a  family  homestead  that  had  sent  forth  many 
generations.  Before  a  stone  had  been  blasted  at  Over 
look,  the  furniture  and  the  woven  stuffs  were  designed 
and  manufacturing.  While  the  outer  walls  of  the 
house  were  finishing,  the  rooms  were  beginning  to  look 
as  if  they  had  been  lived  in  long.  There  was  nothing 
new-looking  anywhere  except  the  plumbing;  nothing 
old-looking,  either.  The  air  was  that  of  things  created 
full  grown,  things  which  have  not  had  a  shiny,  awk- 

164 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


ward  youth  and  could  not  have  a  musty,  rickety,  rotten 
old  age. 

There  came  a  day  when  the  last  rubbish  was 
cleared,  when  the  last  creeper  was  in  leaf,  the  last 
flower  in  bloom,  when  the  grass  and  the  trees  seemed 
green  with  their  hundredth  summer,  when  the  settees 
and  chairs  and  hammocks  were  on  the  verandas  and 
porticos  as  if  they  had  been  there  for  many  a  year, 
when  no  odor  of  fresh  paint  or  varnish  or  look  of 
newness  could  be  detected  anywhere  about  the  house 
— and  the  "  work  of  art  "  was  finished.  Alois  and 
Amy,  in  an  automobile,  went  over  every  part  of  the 
grounds,  examined  them  from  without  and  from  with 
in;  then  they  made  a  tour  of  the  house,  noting 
everything.  Changes,  improvements,  could  be  made, 
would  be  made ;  but  the  work  as  a  work  was  finished. 
They  seated  themselves  on  a  veranda  overlooking  the 
valley,  and  listened  to  the  rush  of  the  torrent,  descend 
ing  through  the  ravines,  in  banks  of  moss  and  wild 
flowers,  to  spring  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Amy 
burst  into  tears. 

"  You're  very  tired,  aren't  you !  "  said  Alois  sym 
pathetically.  There  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  No,  that  isn't  it,"  she  answered,  her  face  hidden 
— she  knew  she  didn't  look  at  all  well  when  she  was 
crying. 

"  I  understand,"  said  he.  "  There's  something 
tragic  about  finishing  anything.  It's  like  bringing  up 
a  child,  and  having  it  marry  and  go  away."  He 
sighed.  "  Yes,  we're  done." 

"  I  feel  horribly  lonely,"  she  cried.  "  I've  lost  my 
occupation.  It's  the  first  great  real  sorrow  of  my 
life.  I  wish  we  hadn't  been  in  such  a  hurry  !  We  might 
have  made  it  last  a  year  or  two  longer." 

165 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  I  wish  we  had !  " 

"  You  can't  wish  it  as  I  do.  You  will  go  on  and 
build  other  houses.  You  have  a  career.  It  seems  to 
me  that  I've  come  to  the  very  end." 

"  You  don't  realize,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "  that 
it  was  the  personal  element  in  this  that  gave — that 
gives  it  its  whole  meaning,  to  me.  I  was  working  with 
you  and — for  you." 

He  glanced  at  her  eagerly,  but  with  a  certain  tim 
idity,  for  some  sign  that  would  encourage  him.  A 
hundred  times  at  least,  in  those  months  when  he  had 
spent  the  whole  of  almost  every  day  with  her,  he  had 
been  on  the  point  of  telling  her  what  was  in  his  heart, 
why  he  was  so  tireless  and  so  absorbed  in  their  task. 
But  he  had  never  had  the  courage  to  begin.  By  what 
he  regarded  as  a  malicious  fatality,  she  had  always 
shifted  the  conversation  to  something  with  which  sen 
timent  would  not  have  harmonized  at  all.  Apparently 
she  was  quite  unconscious  that  he  was  a  man ;  and  how 
she  could  be,  when  he  was  so  acutely  alive  to  her  as  a 
woman,  he  could  .not  understand.  Sometimes  he 
thought  she  was  fond  of  him — "  as  fond  as  a  nice  girl 
is  likely  to  be,  before  the  man  declares  himself." 
Again,  it  seemed  to  him  she  cared  nothing  about  him 
except  as  an  architect.  Her  wealth  put  around  her, 
not  only  physically  but  also  mentally,  a  halo  of  su 
periority.  He  could  not  judge  her  as  just  a  woman. 
He  always  saw  in  her  the  supernal  sheen  of  her  fa 
ther's  millions.  He  knew  he  had  great  talent ;  he  was 
inordinately  vain  about  it  in  a  way — as  talented  people 
are  apt  to  be,  where  they  stop  short  of  genius,  which 
— usually,  not  always — has  a  true  sense  of  proportion 
and  gets  no  pleasure  from  contrasting  itself  with  its 
inferiors.  He  would  have  been  as  swift  as  the  next 

166 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


man  to  deny,  with  honest  scorn,  that  he  was  a  wealth 
worshiper ;  and  as  he  was  artist  enough  to  worship 
it  only  where  it  took  on  graceful  forms,  he  could  have 
made  out  a  plausible  case  for  himself.  Amy,  for  ex 
ample,  was  not  homely  or  vulgar — or  petty.  She  had 
good  ideas  and  good  taste  and  concealed  the  ugly  part 
of  her  nature  as  dexterously  as  by  the  arrangement 
of  her  hair  she  concealed  the  fact  that  it  was  neither 
very  long  nor  very  thick.  Besides,  in  her  intercourse 
with  Alois,  there  was  no  reason  why  any  but  the  best 
side  of  her  should  ever  show. 

Narcisse  gave  over  trying  to  make  him  sensible 
where  Amy  was  concerned,  as  soon  as  she  saw  upon 
what  he  was  bent.  "  He  wouldn't  think  of  her  seri 
ously  if  she  weren't  rich,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  But, 
since  he  is  determined  to  take  her  seriously,  it's  bet 
ter  that  he  should  be  able  to  delude  himself  into  be 
lieving  he  loves  her.  And  maybe  he  does.  Isn't  love 
always  nine  tenths  delusion  of  some  sort  ?  "  So,  she 
left  him  free  to  go  on  with  Amy,  to  love  her,  to  win 
her  love  if  he  could.  But  —  could  he  ?  He  feared 
not.  That  so  wonderful  a  creature,  one  who  might 
marry  more  millions  and  blaze,  the  brightest  star  in 
the  heavens  of  fashionable  New  York,  should  take 
him — it  seemed  unlikely.  "  She  ought  to  prefer  con 
geniality  to  wealth,"  thought  he,  "  but  " — with  an  un 
conscious  inward  glance — "  it's  not  in  human  nature 
to  do  it." 

As  they  sat  there  together  in  the  midst  of  their 
completed  work,  he  waiting  for  some  hopeful  sign,  she 
at  least  did  not  change  the  subject.  "  Hasn't  what 
we've  been  doing  had  any — personal  interest  for 
you?  "  he  urged. 

She  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  owe  my  interest  in  it  to 
167 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

you,"  she  conceded.  But  she  went  on  to  discourage 
him  with,  "  We  have  been  such  friends.  Usually,  a 
young  man  and  a  young  woman  can't  be  together,  as 
have  we,  without  trying  to  marry  each  other." 

"  That's  true,"  assented  he,  much  dejected.  Then, 
desperately,  "  That's  why  I've  put  off  saying  what  I'm 
going  to  say  until  the  work  should  be  done." 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Don't  say  it,  please — not 
now." 

"  But  you  must  have  known,"  he  pleaded. 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,"  replied  she  with  an  air 
of  frankness  that  convinced  him. 

"Well— won't  you  think  of  it— now?  " 

"  Not  to-day,"  was  her  answer,  in  the  tone  a 
woman  uses  when  she  is  uncertain  and  wishes  to  con 
vince  herself  that  she  is  certain.  She  rose  and  crossed 
to  the  edge  of  the  veranda. 

In  such  circumstances,  when  the  woman  turns  her 
back  on  the  man,  it  is  usually  to  signify  that  she  has 
a  traitor  within,  willing  to  yield  to  a  surprise  that 
which  could  not  be  won  by  a  direct  assault;  and,  had 
Alois's  love  been  founded  in  passion  instead  of  in  in 
terest,  he  would  not  have  followed  her  hesitatingly, 
doing  nothing,  simply  saying  stumblingly :  "  I  don't 
wish  to  annoy  you.  But  let  me  say  one  thing — 
Amy — I  love  you,  and  to  get  you  means  life  to  me, 
and  not  to  get  you  means  the  death  of  all  that  is  really 
me.  I  think  I  could  make  you  happy — you  who  are 
so  interested  in  what  is  my  life  work.  It  must  be  our 
life  work." 

"I've  thought  of  that,"  responded  she  softly. 
"But,  not  to-day — not  to-day."  A  pause  during 
which  she  was  hoping,  in  spite  of  herself,  that  he  would 
at  least  insist.  When  he  remained  silent  and  respect- 

168 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


ful,  she  went  on :  "  Don't  you  think  we  may  let  father 
and  Hugo  come  ?  " 

"  By  all  means.  Everything  is  ready."  And  they 
went  back  to  talking  of  the  work — of  the  surprise 
awaiting  Fosdick. 

Fosdick  had  gratified  her  and  delighted  himself  by 
playing  the  fondly  indulgent  father  throughout  the 
building  of  Overlook.  He  had  put  the  widest  limits  on 
expense,  he  had  asked  no  questions;  he  had  let  her 
keep  him  ignorant  of  all  that  was  being  done.  It  was 
a  remarkable  and  most  characteristic  display  of  gen 
erosity.  When  a  man  earns  a  fortune  by  his  own  ef 
forts,  by  risking  his  own  property  again  and  again, 
he  is  rarely  "  princely  "  in  his  generosity.  But  with 
the  men  who  grow  rich  by  risking  other  people's 
money  in  campaigns  against  rival  captains  of  finance 
and  industry  who  are  also  submitting  to  the  fortunes 
of  commercial  war  little  or  nothing  that  is  rightfully 
theirs,  then  the  princely  qualities  come  out — the  gen 
erosity  with  which  the  prince  wastes  the  substance  of 
his  subjects  in  luxury,  in  largesse,  and  in  wars.  Fos 
dick  felt  most  princely  in  relation  to  the  properties 
he  controlled.  Whatever  he  did,  if  it  was  merely 
eating  his  breakfast  or  consulting  a  physician  when 
he  was  ill,  he  did  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  multitude 
whose  money  was  invested  in  his  various  enterprises. 
Thus,  when  he  took,  he  could  take  only  his  own ;  when 
he  gave,  he  was  "  graciously  pleased  "  to  give  up  his 
own. 

This  simple,  easy,  and  most  natural  theory  reduced 
all  divisions  of  profits,  losses,  expenses,  to  mere  mat 
ters  of  bookkeeping.  If  his  losses  or  expenses  were 
heavy,  the  dividends  to  policy  holders  and  stockholders 
must  be  small — clearly,  he  who  had  done  his  best  and 
12  169 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

had  acted  only  for  the  good  of  others  ought  not  to 
cripple  or  hamper  his  future  unselfish  endeavors.  If 
the  profits  were  large — why  dribble  them  out  to  sev 
eral  hundred  thousand  people  who  had  done  nothing  to 
make  them,  who  did  not  deserve,  did  not  expect,  and 
would  not  appreciate?  No;  the  extra  profits  to  the 
war-chest — which  was  naturally  and  of  necessity  and 
of  right  in  the  secure  possession  of  the  commander-in- 
chief.  So,  Fosdick,  after  the  approved  and  customary 
manner  of  the  princely  industrial  successors  to  the 
princely  aristocratic  parasites  on  mankind,  was  able  to 
indulge  himself  in  the  luxury  of  generosity  without 
inflicting  any  hardship  upon  his  conscience  or  upon  his 
purse. 

The  distribution  of  the  cost  of  the  new  house  had 
presented  many  nice  problems  in  bookkeeping.  Some 
of  the  expense  —  for  raw  materials,  notably  —  was 
merged  into  the  construction  accounts  of  the  O.  A.  D. 
and  two  railway  systems;  but  the  largest  part  was 
covered  by  the  results  of  two  big  bond  deals  and  a 
stock  manipulation.  This  part  appeared  on  the  rec 
ords  as  an  actual  payment  by  Fosdick  out  of  his  own 
private  fortune;  but  on  the  other  side  of  the  ledger 
stood  corresponding  profits  from  the  enterprises  men 
tioned,  and  these  profits,  on  careful  analysis,  were  seen 
to  have  come  from  the  fact  that,  when  profits  were 
to  be  distributed,  Fosdick  the  private  person  was  in 
no  way  distinguishable  from  Fosdick  the  trustee  of 
the  multitude. 

If  the  old  man  had  not  had  confidence  in  his 
daughter's  good  sense  and  good  taste  and  in  Siers- 
dorf's  ability,  he  would  not  have  given  them  the  ab 
solutely  free  hand.  It  was,  therefore,  with  the  live 
liest  expectations  that  he  took  the  train  for  Overlook. 

170 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


As  he  and  Hugo  descended  at  the  station,  they  looked 
toward  Overlook  Hill,  so  amazingly  transformed. 
"  Well,  you've  certainly  done  something  \ "  he  ex 
claimed  to  Amy,  as  she  came  forward  to  meet  him. 
"  Why,  I'd  not  have  known  the  place.  Splendid ! 
Superb !  "  And  he  kissed  her  and  shook  hands  warmly 
with  Alois. 

On  the  way  through  the  village  in  the  auto,  he 
gushed  a  stream  of  enthusiasm  and  comment.  "  That 
cliff,  now — what  a  fine  idea!  And  the  cascade — why, 
you've  doubled  the  value  of  real  estate  throughout  this 
region.  I  must  quietly  gather  in  some  land  round 
here —  You  are  in  on  that,  Siersdorf.  The  railway 
station  must  be  improved.  I'll  see  Thome — he's  presi 
dent  of  the  road  and  a  good  friend  of  mine — he'll  put 
up  a  proper  building — you  must  draw  the  plans,  Siers 
dorf.  This  village — it's  unsightly.  We  must  either 
wipe  it  out  or  make  it  into  a  model." 

His  enthusiasm  continued  at  the  boiling  point  until 
they  ascended  the  hill  and  had  the  first  full  view  of 
the  house.  Then  his  face  lengthened  and  he  lapsed 
into  silence.  Hugo  was  not  so  considerate.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  this  is  the  house?  "  demanded  he  of 
Amy.  "  Why,  it's  a  cottage.  How  ridiculous  to  put 
such  a  climax  to  all  these  preparations ! " 

Amy's  eyes  flashed  and  she  tossed  her  head  scorn 
fully. 

Hugo  continued  to  look  and  began  to  laugh. 
"  Ridiculous  !  "  he  repeated.  "  Don't  you  think  so, 
father?" 

"  It  is  hardly  what  I  expected,"  confessed  Fosdick. 
"  It  isn't  done  yet,  is  it,  Amy?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  done,"  she  said  angrily.  "  And  it's  the 
best  thing  about  the  place.  I  don't  want  you  to  say 

171 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

anything  more  until  you've  gone  over  it.  The  trouble 
with  you  and  Hugo  is  that  your  taste  has  been  cor 
rupted  by  the  vulgarity  in  New  York.  You  don't 
appreciate  the  difference  between  beauty  and  ostenta 
tion.  Mr.  Siersdorf  has  built  a  house  for  a  gentleman, 
not  for  a  multimillionaire." 

That  silenced  them;  and  in  silence  she  led  the  way 
into  and  through  the  house,  by  a  route  that  would 
present  all  its  charms  and  comforts  in  effective  suc 
cession.  She  made  no  comments ;  she  simply  regulated 
the  speed  of  the  tour,  trusting  to  their  eyes  to  show 
them  what  she  could  not  believe  any  eyes  could  fail 
to  see.  At  the  veranda  commanding  the  most  magnifi 
cent  of  the  many  views,  she  brought  the  tour  to  an 
end.  The  luncheon  table  was  there,  and  she  ordered 
the  servants  to  bring  lunch.  And  a  delicious  lunch  it 
was,  ending  with  wonderful  English  strawberries, 
crimson,  huge,  pink-white  within  and  sweet  as  their  own 
fragrance — "  grown  on  the  place,"  explained  Amy, 
"  and  this  cream  is  from  our  own  dairy  down  there." 

"  I  take  it  all  back,"  said  Fosdick.  "  You  and 
Siersdorf  were  right.  Eh,  Hugo  ?  " 

"  It's  better  than  I  thought,"  conceded  Hugo. 
"  There  certainly  is  a — a  tone  about  the  house  that 
I've  not  often  seen  on  this  side  of  the  water." 

66  And  there's  a  comfort  you've  never  seen  on  the 
other  side,"  said  Amy.  "  You  are  satisfied,  father  ?  " 

"Satisfied!"  exclaimed  Fosdick.  "I'm  over 
whelmed." 

And  when  they  had  had  coffee,  which,  Hugo  said, 
reminded  him  of  the  Cafe  Anglais  at  Paris,  Siersdorf 
took  them  for  a  second  tour  of  the  house,  pointing  out 
the  conveniences,  the  luxuries,  the  evidences  of  good 
taste,  expanding  upon  them,  eulogizing  them,  feeling 

172 


OVERLOOK  LODGE 


as  he  talked  that  he  had  created  them.  "  A  gentleman's 
home !  "  he  cried  again  and  again.  "  It'll  be  a  rebuke 
to  all  these  vulgarians  who  are  trying  to  show  how 
much  money  they've  got.  Why,  you  never  think,  as 
you  walk  around  here,  '  How  much  this  cost,'  but  only, 
*  How  beautiful  it  is,  and  how  comfortable.'  A  house 
for  a  gentleman.  A  gentleman's  home — that's  what  / 
call  it." 

At  each  burst  of  enthusiasm  from  her  father,  Amy 
beamed  on  Alois.  And  Alois  was  dizzy  with  happiness 
and  hope. 


173 


XIV 


WOMAN'S  DISTRUST — AND  TRUST 


HAVING  got  what  she  wanted  of  Alois,  Amy  now 
permitted  her  better  nature  to  reproach  her  for  hav 
ing  absorbed  him  so  long  and  so  completely.  She  as 
sumed  Narcisse  was  blaming,  was  disliking,  her  for  it; 
and,  indeed,  Narcisse  had  been  watching  the  per 
formance  with  some  anger  and  more  disgust.  Before 
Alois  came  upon  the  scene,  and  while  Amy  was  still 
in  the  first  flush  of  enthusiasm  for  her  new  friend, 
Narcisse  had  begun  to  draw  back.  She  saw  that  Amy, 
like  everyone  who  has  always  had  his  own  way  and  so 
has  been  made  capricious,  was  without  capacity  for 
real  friendship.  If  she  had  thought  Amy  worth  while, 
she  would  have  held  her — for  Narcisse  was  many- 
sided  and  could  make  herself  so  interesting  that  few 
indeed  would  not  have  seemed  tame  and  dull  after  her. 
But  she  decided  that  Amy  was  not  worth  while;  and 
to  cut  short  Amy's  constant  attempts  to  interfere  be 
tween  her  and  her  work,  she  emphasized  her  positive, 
even  aggressive,  individuality,  instead  of  softening  it. 
Servants,  fortune-hunters,  flatterers,  the  army  of  par 
asites  that  gathers  to  swoop  upon  anyone  with  any 
thing  to  give,  had  made  Amy  intolerant  of  the  least 
self-assertiveness ;  and  to  be  a  very  porcupine  of  prickly 
points ;  Narcisse  had  only  to  give  way  to  her  natural 
bent  for  the  candid. 

174 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST— AND    TRUST 

For  example,  Narcisse  had  common  sense — like 
most  people  of  good  taste;  for,  is  not  sound  sense  the 
basis  of  sound  taste,  indeed  the  prime  factor  in  all 
sound  development  of  whatever  kind?  Now,  there  is 
nothing  more  inflammatory  than  steadfast  good  sense. 
It  rebukes  and  mocks  us,  making  us  seem  as  stupid 
and  as  foolish  as  we  fear  we  are.  Narcisse  would  not 
eat  things  that  did  not  agree  with  her ;  it  irritated 
self-indulgent  Amy  against  her,  when  they  lunched  to 
gether  and  she  refused  to  eat  as  foolishly  as  did  Amy. 
Again,  Narcisse  would  not  drive  when  she  could  walk, 
because  driving  was  as  bad  for  health  and  looks  as 
walking  was  good  for  them.  Amy  knew  that,  with  her 
tendency  to  fat,  she  ought  never  to  drive.  But  she 
was  lazy,  doted  on  the  superiority  driving  seemed  to 
give,  was  nervous  about  the  inferiority  "  the  best  peo 
ple  "  attached  to  a  woman's  walking.  So  she  persisted 
in  driving,  and  ruffled  at  Narcisse  for  being  equally 
persistent  in  the  sensible  course.  It  is  the  common 
conception  of  friendship  that  one's  friend  must  do  what 
one  wishes  and  is  no  friend  if  he  does  not;  Amy  felt 
that  way  about  it. 

Alois  had  come  back  from  abroad  just  in  time  to 
save  the  Fosdick  architectural  trade  to  the  firm.  Nar 
cisse  would  soon  have  alienated  it — and  would  have 
been  glad  to  see  it  go;  in  fact,  since  she  had  realized 
where  the  Fosdick  money  came  from,  she  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  restrained  herself  from  bursting 
forth  to  Alois  in  "  impractical  sentimentalities  "  which 
she  knew  would  move  him  only  against  herself. 

Amy  expected  Narcisse's  enthusiasm  toward  Over 
look  to  be  very,  very  restrained  indeed.  "  She  must 
be  jealous,"  thought  Amy,  "because  she  has  had  so 
little  to  do  with  it,  and  I  so  much."  But  she  had 

175 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

to  admit  that  she  had  misjudged  the  builder.  It  is 
not  easy  satisfactorily  to  praise  to  anyone  a  person 
or  a  thing  he  has  in  his  heart ;  the  most  ardent  praise 
is  likely  to  seem  cold,  and  any  lapse  in  discrimination 
rouses  a  suspicion  of  insincerity.  If  Narcisse  had  not 
felt  the  beauty  of  what  her  brother  and  Amy  had  done, 
she  could  not  have  made  Amy's  enthusiasm  for  her 
flame  afresh,  as  it  did.  Before  Narcisse  finished,  Amy 
thought  that  she  herself  had  not  half  appreciated  how 
well  she  and  Alois  had  wrought.  "  But  it  would  never 
have  been  anything  like  so  satisfactory,"  said  she  in 
a  burst  of  impulsive  generosity,  "  if  you  hadn't 
started  it  all." 

"  I  wish  I  could  feel  that  I  had  some  part  in  it," 
said  Narcisse,  "  but  I  can't,  in  honesty." 

And  she  meant  it.  Those  who  have  fertile,  luxu 
riant  minds  rarely  keep  account  of  the  ideas  they  are 
constantly  and  prodigally  pouring  out.  Narcisse  had 
forgotten — though  Amy  had  not — that  it  was  she  who 
was  inspired  by  that  site  to  dream  the  dream  that  her 
brother  and  Amy  had  realized.  It  was  on  the  tip  of 
Amy's  tongue  to  say  this ;  but  she  decided  to  refrain. 
"  I  probably  exaggerate  the  influence  of  what  she 
said,"  she  thought.  "  We  saw  it  together  and  talked  it 
over  together,  and  no  doubt  each  of  us  borrowed  from 
the  other " — let  him  who  dares,  criticise  this,  in  a 
world  that  shines  altogether  by  reflected  lights. 

As  the  two  young  women  talked  on,  the  builder 
gradually  returned  to  her  constrained  attitude.  She 
saw  that  Amy  was  taking  to  herself  the  whole  credit 
for  Overlook,  was  looking  on  Alois  as  simply  a  stimu 
lant  to  her  own  great  magnetism  and  artistic  sense, 
was  patronizing  him  as  a  capable  and  satisfactory 
agent  for  transmitting  them  into  action.  And  this 

176 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST— AND    TRUST 

made  her  angry,  not  with  Amy  but  with  Alois.  "  Amy 
isn't  to  blame,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  It's  his  fault. 
To  please  her  he  has  been  exaggerating  her  importance 
to  herself,  and  he  has  succeeded  in  convincing  her. 
She  has  ended  up  just  where  people  always  end  up, 
when  you  encourage  them  to  give  their  vanity  its 
head."  She  tried  to  devise  some  way  of  helping  her 
brother,  of  reminding  Amy  that  he  was  entitled  to 
credit  for  some  small  part  of  the  success ;  but  she  could 
think  of  nothing  to  say  that  Amy  would  not  misinter 
pret  into  jealousy  either  for  herself  or  for  her  brother. 
When  she  got  back  to  the  offices,  she  said  to  him: 

"  If  I  were  you,  I'd  not  let  a  certain  young  woman 
imagine  she  has  all  the  brains." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  he,  clouding  at  once. 
He  showed  annoyance  nowadays  whenever  she  men 
tioned  the  Fosdicks. 

"  She'll  soon  be  thinking  you  couldn't  get  along 
without  her  to  give  you  ideas,"  replied  Narcisse. 
"  It's  bad  ah1  round — bad  for  the  woman,  bad  for  the 
man — when  he  gets  her  too  crazy  about  herself.  She's 
likely  to  overlook  his  merits  entirely  in  her  excitement 
about  her  own." 

"  You  are  prejudiced  against  her,  Narcisse,"  said 
Alois  angrily.  "  And  it  isn't  a  bit  like  you  to  be  so." 

Narcisse,  not  being  an  angel,  flared.  "  I'm  not 
half  as  prejudiced  against  her  as  you'd  be  three 
months  after  you  married  her,"  she  cried.  "  But 
you'll  not  get  her,  if  you  keep  on  as  you're  going  now. 
Instead  of  showing  her  how  awed  you  are  by  her,  you'd 
better  be  teaching  her  that  she  ought  to  be  in  awe 
of  you,  that  it's  what  you  give  her  that  makes  her 
shine  so  bright." 

And  she  fled  to  her  own  office,  fuming  against  the 
ITT 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

folly  of  men  and  the  silliness  of  women,  and  thor 
oughly  miserable  over  the  whole  situation ;  for,  at  bot 
tom  she  believed  that  such  a  woman  as  Amy  must  have 
feminine  instinct  enough  fairly  to  jump  at  such  a 
man  as  Alois,  if  there  was  a  chance  to  attach  him  per 
manently;  and,  the  prospect  of  Alois  marrying  a 
woman  who  could  do  him  no  good,  who  was  all  take 
and  no  give,  put  her  into  such  a  frame  of  mind  that 
she  wished  she  had  the  mean  streak  necessary  to  in 
triguing  him  and  her  apart. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  bluest  of  her  blue  days  of 
forebodings  about  Alois  and  Amy  that  Neva  came  in 
to  see  her;  and  a  glance  at  Neva's  face  was  sufficient 
to  convince  her  that  bad  news  was  imminent.  "  What 
is  it,  Neva?  "  she  demanded.  "  I've  felt  all  the  morn 
ing  that  something  rotten  was  on  the  way.  Now,  I 
know  it's  here.  Tell  me." 

"  Do  you  recall  Mrs.  Ranier?  She  was  at  my  place 
one  afternoon " 

"  Perfectly,"  interrupted  Narcisse,  "  Amy  Fos- 
dick's  sister." 

"  She  took  a  great  fancy  to  you.  And  when  she 
heard  something  she  thought  you  ought  to  know,  she 
came  to  me  and  asked  me  to  tell  you.  She  said  she 
knew  you'd  be  discreet — that  you  could  be  trusted." 

"  I  liked  her,  too,"  said  Narcisse.  "  I  think  she 
can  trust  me." 

"  It's  about — about — those  insurance  buildings," 
continued  Neva,  painfully  embarrassed.  "  I'm  afraid 
I'm  rather  incoherent.  It's  the  first  time  I  ever  inter 
fered  in  anyone  else's  business." 

"  Tell  me,"  urged  Narcisse.  "  I  suppose  it's  some 
thing  painful.  But  I'm  good  and  tough — speak 
straight  out." 

178 


WOMAN'S  DISTRUST— AND   TRUST 

"  Mrs.  Ranier's  husband  is  in  the  furniture  busi 
ness,  and  through  that  he  found  out  there's  a  scandal 
coming.  She  says  those  people  downtown  will  drag 
you  and  your  brother  in,  will  probably  try  to  hide 
themselves  behind  you.  She  heard  last  night,  and 
came  early  this  morning.  '  Tell  her,'  she  said,  '  not  to 
let  her  brother  reassure  her,  but  to  look  into  it — clear 
to  the  bottom.'  " 

Narcisse  was  motionless,  her  eyes  strained,  her  face 
haggard. 

"  That's  all,"  said  Neva,  rising.  "  I  shouldn't  have 
come,  shouldn't  have  said  anything  to  you,  if  I  had  not 
known  that  Mrs.  Ranier  has  the  best  heart  in  the 
world,  and  isn't  an  alarmist." 

Narcisse  faced  Neva  and  pressed  her  hands,  with 
out  looking  at  her. 

"  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do,  you  have  only  to 
ask,"  said  Neva,  going.  She  had  too  human  an  in 
stinct  to  linger  and  offer  sympathy  to  pride  in  its  hour 
of  abasement. 

"  There's  one  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Narcisse, 
nervous  and  intensely  embarrassed. 

Neva  came  back.  "  Don't  hesitate.  I  meant  just 
what  I  said — anything." 

Narcisse  blurted  it  out :  "  Is  Horace  Armstrong  a 
man  who  can  be  trusted  ?  Is  he  straight  ?  "  Then,  as 
Neva  did  not  answer  immediately,  she  hastened  on, 
"  Please  forget  what  I  asked  you.  It  really  doesn't 
matter,  and " 

Neva  interrupted  her  with  a  frank,  friendly  smile. 
"  Don't  be  uneasy,"  she  said.  "  He  and  I  are  excellent 
friends.  He  calls  often.  I  don't  know  a  thing  about 
him  in  a  business  way.  But —  Well,  Narcisse,  I'm 
sure  he'd  not  do  anything  small  and  mean." 

179 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

"  That's  all  I  wished  to  know." 

A  few  minutes  after  Neva  left,  Narcisse,  white  but 
calm,  sent  for  her  brother.  "  How  deeply  have  you 
entangled  yourself  in  those  fraudulent  vouchers  ?  "  she 
asked,  when  they  were  shut  in  together. 

He  lifted  his  head  haughtily.  "  What  do  you 
mean,  Narcisse?" 

"As  we  are  equal  partners,  I  have  the  right  to 
know  all  the  affairs  of  the  firm.  I  want  to  see  the  ac 
counts  of  those  insurance  buildings,  at  once — and  to 
know  the  exact  truth  about  them." 

"  You  left  that  matter  entirely  to  me,"  replied  he, 
sullen  but  uneasy.  "  I  haven't  time  to-day  to  go  into 
a  mass  of  details.  It'd  be  useless,  anyhow.  But — I 
do  not  like  that  word  you  used — fraudulent." 

She  waved  her  hand  impatiently.  "  It's  the  word 
the  public  will  use,  whatever  nice,  agreeable  expression 
for  it  you  men  of  affairs  may  have  among  yourselves. 
Have  you  signed  vouchers,  as  you  said  you  were  going 
to  do?" 

"  Certainly.  And,  I  may  add,  I  shall  continue  to 
sign  them." 

"  Haven't  you  heard  that  that  investigation  is 
coming?  " 

He  gave  a  superior,  knowing  smile.  "  Those 
things  are  always  fixed  up.  There's  a  public  side,  but 
it's  as  unreal  as  a  stage  play.  Fosdick  controls  this 
particular  show." 

"  So  I  hear,"  said  she,  with  bitter  irony.  "  And  he 
purposes  to  throw  you  to  the  wild  beasts — you  and 


Siersdorf  laughed  indulgently.  "  My  dear  sister," 
he  said,  "  don't  bother  your  head  about  it."  The  idea 
seemed  absurd  to  him :  Fosdick  sacrifice  him,  when  they 

180 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST— AND   TRUST 

were  such  friends ! — it  was  an  insult  to  Fosdick  to  en 
tertain  the  suspicion.  "  When  the  proper  time  comes," 
he  continued,  "  I  shall  be  away  on  business — and  the 
matter  will  be  sidetracked,  and  nothing  more  will  be 
said  about  me.  Trust  me.  I  know  what  I  am  about." 

"  Yes,  you  will  be  away,"  cried  she,  suddenly  en 
lightened.  "  And  the  whole  thing  will  be  exposed,  and 
they'll  have  their  accounts  so  cooked  that  the  guilt  will 
all  be  on  you.  And  before  you  can  get  back  and  clear 
yourself,  you  will  be  ruined — disgraced — dishonored." 

The  situation  she  thus  blackly  outlined  was  within 
the  possibilities ;  her  tone  of  certainty  had  carrying 
power.  A  chill  went  through  him.  "  Ridiculous !  "  he 
protested  loudly. 

"  You  have  put  your  honor  in  another  man's  keep 
ing,"  she  went  on.  "  And  that  man  is  a  thief." 

"Narcisse!" 

"A  thief!"  she  repeated  with  emphasis.  "They 
don't  call  each  other  thieves  downtown.  They've 
agreed  to  call  themselves  respectabilities  and  finan 
ciers  and  all  sorts  of  high-flown  names.  But  thieves 
they  are,  because  they're  loaded  down  with  what  don't 
belong  to  them,  money  they  got  away  from  other  peo 
ple  by  lying  and  swindling.  Is  your  honor  quite  safe 
in  the  keeping  of  a  thief?  " 

"  Narcisse !  "  repeated  Alois,  wincing  again  at  that 
terse,  plain  word,  rough  and  harsh,  an  allopathic  dose 
of  moral  medicine,  undiluted,  uncoated. 

"  /  don't  think  so,"  she  pursued.  "  What  precau 
tions  do  you  purpose  to  take  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  helplessly.  "  If  I  say  anything 
to  Fosdick,"  said  he,  "  he  will  be  justified  in  getting 
furiously  angry.  He  might  think  he  had  the  right 
to  act  as  you  accuse  him  of  plotting." 

181 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  But  you  must  do  something." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  trusted  Fosdick,"  said 
he.  "  I  still  think  it  was  wise.  But,  however  that  may 
be,  the  wise  course  now  certainly  is  to  continue  to 
trust  him." 

"  Trust  him !  "  exclaimed  Narcisse  bitterly.  "  I 
might  trust  a  thief  who  wasn't  a  hypocrite — he  might 
not  squeal  on  a  pal  to  save  himself.  But  not  a  Fos 
dick.  A  respectable  thief  has  neither  the  honor  of 
honest  men  nor  the  honor  of  thieves.'* 

"Prejudice!     Always  prejudice,  Narcisse." 

"You  will  do  nothing?" 

66  Nothing."    And  he  tried  to  look  calm  and  firm. 

She  went  into  her  dressing  room  with  the  air  of 
one  bent  on  decisive  action.  He  could  but  wait.  When 
she  came  back  she  was  dressed  for  the  street. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  demanded  in  alarm. 

"  To  save  myself  and — you,"  she  replied  with  a 
certain  sternness.  It  was  unlike  her  to  put  herself  first 
in  speech — she  who  always  considered  herself  last. 

"  Narcisse,  I  forbid  you  to  interfere  in  this  affair. 
I  forbid  you  to  go  crazily  on  to  compromising  us 
both." 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes.  "  The  time  has 
come  when  I  must  use  my  own  judgment,"  said  she. 

And,  with  that,  she  went;  he  knew  her,  knew  when 
it  was  idle  to  oppose  her.  Besides — what  if  she  should 
be  right?  In  all  their  years  together,  as  children,  as 
youths,  as  workers,  he  had  always  respected  her  judg 
ment,  because  it  had  always  been  based  upon  a  common 
sense  clearer  than  his  own,  freer  from  those  passions 
which  rise  from  the  stronger  appetites  of  men  to  be 
fog  their  reason,  to  make  what  they  wish  to  be  the 
truth  seem  actually  the  truth. 

182 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST— AND    TRUST 

"  She's  wrong,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  But  she'll 
not  do  anything  foolish.  She's  the  kind  that  can  go 
in  safety  along  the  wrong  road,  because  they  always 
keep  a  line  of  retreat  open."  And  that  reflection  some 
what  reassured  him. 

Narcisse  went  direct  to  Fosdick  at  his  office.  As 
there  was  only  one  caller  ahead  of  her,  she  did  not 
have  long  to  wait  in  the  anteroom  guarded  by  Waller 
of  the  stealthy,  glistening  smile.  "  Mr.  Fosdick  is 
very  busy  this  morning,"  explained  he.  It  was  the  re 
mark  he  always  made  to  callers  as  he  passed  them 
along ;  it  helped  Fosdick  to  cut  them  short.  "  The  big 
railway  consolidation,  you  know?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Narcisse. 

"  Oh — you  artists !  You  live  quite  apart  from  our 
world  of  affairs.  But  I  supposed  news  of  a  thing 
of  such  tremendous  public  benefit  would  have  reached 
everybody." 

Narcisse  smiled  faintly.  She  could  not  imagine 
any  of  these  gentlemen,  roosted  so  high  and  with  eyes 
training  in  every  direction  in  search  of  prey,  occupy 
ing  themselves  for  one  instant  with  a  thing  that  was 
a  public  benefit,  except  in  the  hope  of  changing  it  into 
a  "  private  snap." 

"  It's  marvelous,"  continued  Waller,  "  how  Fosdick 
and  these  other  men  of  enormous  wealth  go  on  working 
for  their  fellow  men  when  they  might  be  taking  their 
ease  and  amusing  themselves." 

"  Amusing  themselves — how  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Oh — in  a  thousand  ways." 

66  I'm  afraid  they'd  find  it  hard  to  pass  the  time, 
if  they  didn't  have  their  work,"  said  she.  "  The  world 
isn't  a  very  amusing  place  unless  one  happens  to  have 
work  that  interests  him." 

183 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  There's  something  in  that — there's  something  in 
that,"  said  Waller,  in  as  good  an  imitation  as  he  could 
give  of  his  master's  tone  and  manner.  It  had  never 
before  occurred  to  him  to  question  the  current  theory 
that,  while  poor  men  toiled  for  bread  and  selfishness, 
rich  men  refrained  from  boring  themselves  to  death  in 
idling  about,  only  because  they  passionately  yearned 
to  serve  their  fellow  beings. 

"  Do  you  still  teach  a  class  in  Mr.  Fosdick's  Sun 
day  school ?  " 

"  I'm  assistant  superintendent  now,"  replied  he. 

"  That's  good,"  said  she,  as  if  she  really  meant  it. 
She  was  feeling  sorry  for  him.  He  had  worked  so  long 
and  so  hard,  and  had  striven  so  diligently  to  please 
Fosdick  in  every  way;  Fosdick  had  got  from  him 
service  that  money  could  not  have  bought.  And  the 
worst  of  it  was,  Fosdick  had  never  tried  to  find  a 
money  expression  for  it  that  was  anything  like  ade 
quate,  but  had  ingeniously  convinced  poor  Waller  he 
was  more  than  well  paid  in  the  honor  of  serving  in 
such  an  intimate  capacity  such  a  great  and  generous 
man.  The  mitigating  circumstance  was  that  Fos 
dick  firmly  believed  this  himself — but  Narcisse  that 
day  was  not  in  the  humor  to  see  the  mitigations  of 
Fosdick. 

And  now  Fosdick  himself  came  hurrying  in,  eyes 
alight,  strong  face  smiling — "  Miss  Siersdorf — this  is 
a  surprise !  I  don't  believe  I  ever  before  saw  you  down 
town — though,  of  course,  you  must  have  come."  He 
looked  at  her  with  an  admiration  that  was  genuine. 
"  Excuse  an  old  man  for  saying  it,  but  you  are 
so  beautifully  dressed — as  always — and  handsome — 
that  goes  without  saying.  Come  right  in.  You  can 
have  all  the  time  you  want.  I  know  you — know  you 

184 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST— AND   TRUST 

are  a  business  woman.  Now,  that  man  who  was  just 
with  me — Bishop  Knowlton — a  fine,  noble  man,  with  a 
heart  full  of  love  for  God  and  his  fellows — but  not 
an  idea  of  the  value  of  a  business  man's  time.  Finally 
I  had  to  say  to  him,  '  I'll  give  you  what  yo^u  ask — 
and  I'll  double  it  if  you  don't  say  another  word  but  go 
at  once.' ' 

They  were  now  in  the  innermost  room,  and  Fosdick 
had  bowed  her  into  a  chair  and  had  seated  himself.  "  I 
came  to  see  you,"  said  Narcisse,  formal  to  coldness, 
"  about  the  two  office  buildings — about  the  accounts 
our  firm  has  been  approving." 

"  Oh,  but  you  needn't  fret  about  them,"  said  Fos 
dick,  in  his  bluff,  hearty,  offhand  manner.  "  Your 
brother  is  looking  after  them." 

"  Then  they  are  all  right  ?  "  she  said,  fixing  her 
gaze  on  him. 

"  Why,  certainly,  certainly.  I  have  absolute  confi 
dence  in  your  brother.  Have  you  seen  Overlook?  Yes 
— of  course — my  daughter  told  me.  You  delighted 
her  by  what  you  said.  It  is  beautiful " 

"  To  keep  to  the  accounts,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  Narcisse 
interrupted,  "  I  am  not  satisfied  with  our  firm's  posi 
tion  in  the  matter." 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  talk  to  your  brother  about 
that.  I've  a  thousand  and  one  matters.  I  really  know 
nothing  of  details,  and,  as  you  are  perhaps  aware,  my 
interest  in  the  O.  A.  D.  is  largely  philanthropic.  I  can 
give  it  but  little  of  my  time." 

"  I've  come,"  said  Narcisse,  as  he  paused  for 
breath,  "  to  get  from  you  a  statement  relieving  us 
from  all  responsibility  as  to  those  accounts,  and 
authorizing  us  to  sign  them  as  a  mere  formality,  to 
expedite  their  progress." 

13  185 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

Fosdick  laughed.  "  I'd  like  to  do  anything  to 
oblige  you,"  said  he,  "  but  really,  I  couldn't  do 
that.  You  must  know  that  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  buildings — with  the  details  of  the  affairs  of  the 
O.  A.  D." 

"  You  gave  us  the  contracts,"  said  Narcisse. 

"  Pardon  me,  /  did  not  give  you  the  contracts. 
They  were  not  mine  to  give.  What  you  mean  to  say 
is  that  I  used  for  you  what  influence  I  have.  It  was 
out  of  friendship  for  you  and  your  brother." 

There  he  touched  her.  "  We  had  every  reason  to 
believe  that  we  got  the  contracts  solely  because  our 
plans  were  the  most  satisfactory,"  said  she  coldly. 
"  If  we  had  suspected  that  friendship  had  anything  to 
do  with  it,  we  should  certainly  have  withdrawn.  I  as 
sure  you,  sir,  we  feel  under  no  obligation — and  my 
present  purpose  is  to  prevent  you  from  putting  your 
self  under  obligation  to  us." 

"  I  don't  quite  follow  you,"  said  Fosdick,  most  con 
ciliatory. 

"  There  has  been  some  kind  of — *  bookkeeping,' 
I  believe  you  call  it — in  connection  with  the  payments 
for  the  work  on  those  buildings.  If  we  were  to  aid 
you  in  your — 4  bookkeeping,'  you  would  certainly  be 
under  heavy  obligations  to  us.  We  cannot  permit 
that." 

Fosdick  laughed  with  the  utmost  good  nature.  "  I 
see  you  misunderstood  some  remarks  I  made  to  you  and 
your  brother  one  day  at  my  house.  However,  any 
thing  to  keep  peace  among  friends.  I'll  do  as  you 
wish." 

His  manner  was  so  frank  and  so  friendly,  and  his 
concession  so  unreserved,  that  Narcisse  was  surprised 
into  being  ashamed  of  her  suspicions.  "  I  believe  'Lois 

186 


WOMAN'S    DISTRUST— AND    TRUST 

is  right,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I've  been  led  astray 
by  my  prejudice." 

Those  shrewd  old  eyes  of  Fosdick's  could  not  have 
missed  an  opportunity  for  advantage  so  plain  as  was 
written  on  her  honest  face.  He  hastened  to  score. 
"  I'll  dictate  it  to  Waller,"  said  he,  rising,  "  when  he 
comes  in  to  round  up  the  day.  You'll  get  it  in  the 
early  morning  mail.  Good-by.  You  don't  come  to 
see  us  up  at  the  house  nearly  often  enough — at  least, 
not  when  I'm  there."  He  had  opened  the  door. 
"  Waller,  conduct  Miss  Siersdorf  to  the  elevator. 
Good-by,  again." 

With  nods  and  smiles  he  had  cleared  himself  of  her, 
easily,  without  abruptness,  rather  as  if  she  were  hurry 
ing  him  than  he  her.  And  Waller,  quick  to  take  his 
cue,  had  passed  her  into  the  elevator  before  she  was 
quite  aware  what  was  happening.  Not  until  she  was 
on  the  ground  floor  and  walking  toward  the  door  did 
her  mind  recover.  "  What  have  you  got  ?  "  it  said,  and 
promptly  answered,  "  Nothing — for,  what  is  a  promise 
from  Josiah  Fosdick?  "  That  seemed  cynical,  unjust; 
as  Fosdick  not  only  was  by  reputation  a  man  of  his 
word,  but  also  had  always  kept  his  word  with  her.  But 
she  stopped  short  and  debated ;  and  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  shake  her  conviction  that  the  man  meant 
treachery.  "  He'll  sacrifice  us,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  if  it's  necessary  to  save  intact  the  name  and  fame  of 
Josiah  Fosdick — or  even  if  he  should  think  it  would 
be  helpful."  What  were  two  insignificant  mere  ordi 
nary  mortals  in  comparison  with  that  name  and  fame, 
that  inspiration  to  honesty  and  fidelity  for  the  youth 
of  the  land,  that  bulwark  of  respectability  and  religion 
— for,  as  all  the  world  knows,  the  eternal  verities  are 
kept  alive  solely  by  the  hypocrites  who  preach  and 

187 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

profess  them ;  if  those  "  shining  examples  "  were  ex 
posed  and  disgraced,  down  would  crash  truth  and 
honor.  No,  Josiah  Fosdick  was  not  one  to  hesitate  be 
fore  the  danger  of  such  a  cataclysm.  Further,  she  felt 
that  he  had  been  plotting  while  he  and  she  were  talk 
ing  and  had  found  some  way  to  pinion  her  and  her 
brother  during  the  day  he  had  gained.  "  To-morrow 
morning,"  she  decided,  "  I'll  not  get  the  paper,  and 
it'll  be  useless  to  try  to  get  it.  Something  must  be 
done,  and  at  once." 

She  turned  back,  reentered  the  elevator.  "  To 
Mr.  Armstrong,"  she  said. 

Armstrong,  whom  she  knew  but  slightly,  received 
her  with  great  courtesy,  and  an  evident  interest  that 
in  turn  roused  her  curiosity.  "  It's  as  if  he  knew  about 
our  affairs,"  she  thought.  To  him  she  said,  "  I  want 
to  see  you  a  few  minutes  alone." 

He  took  her  into  his  inner  room.  "  Well,  what 
is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  with  the  sort  of  abruptness  that  in 
vites  confidence. 

She  had  liked  what  she  had  seen  of  him;  her  good 
impression  was  now  strengthened.  She  thought  there 
was  courage  and  honesty  in  his  face,  along  with  that 
look  of  experience  and  capacity  which  is  rarely  seen 
in  young  faces,  except  in  America  with  its  group  of 
young  men  who  have  already  risen  to  positions  of  great 
responsibility.  There  was  bigness  about  him,  too — 
bigness  of  body  and  of  brow  and  of  hands,  and  the 
eyes  that  go  with  large  ways  of  judging  and  acting 
— eyes  at  once  keen  and  good-humored.  A  man  to 
turn  a  shrewd  trick,  perhaps;  but  it  would  be  exceed 
ingly  shrewd,  and  only  against  a  foe  who  was  using 
the  same  tactics.  Half  confidences  are  worse  than 
none,  are  the  undoing  weakness  of  the  timid  who, 

188 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST—AND    TRUST 

though  they  know  they  must  play  and  play  desper 
ately,  yet  cannot  bring  themselves  to  play  in  the  one 
way  that  could  win.  Narcisse  flung  all  her  cards  upon 
the  table. 

"  I've  got  to  trust  somebody,"  she  said.  "  My  best 
judgment  is  that  that  somebody  is  you.  Here  is  my 
position."  And  she  related  fully,  rapidly,  everything 
except  the  source  of  her  warning  against  Fosdick. 
She  told  all  she  knew  about  the  unwarranted  vouchers 
A.  &  N.  Siersdorf  had  been  approving — "  at  least,  I 
think  they  are  unwarranted,"  she  said.  "  We  know 
nothing  about  them." 

"  And  why  do  you  come  to  me  ?  "  said  Armstrong 
when  he  had  the  whole  affair  before  him  from  the  first 
interview  with  Fosdick  to  and  including  the  last  in 
terview. 

"  Because  you  are  president  of  the  O.  A.  D.,"  she 
replied.  "  We  have  nothing  to  conceal.  You  are  the 
responsible  executive  officer.  If  you  do  not  know 
about  these  things,  you  ought  to  be  told.  And  I  am 
determined  that  our  firm  shall  not  remain  in  its  present 
false  position." 

Armstrong  sat  back  in  his  chair,  his  face  heavy 
and  expressionless,  as  if  the  mind  that  usually  ani 
mated  it  had  left  it  a  lifeless  mask  and  had  withdrawn 
and  concentrated  upon  something  within.  No  one  ever 
got  an  inkling  of  what  Armstrong  was  turning  over 
in  his  mind  until  he  was  ready  to  expose  it  in  speech. 
When  he  came  back  to  the  surface,  he  turned  his  chair 
until  he  was  facing  her  squarely.  His  scrutiny  seemed 
to  satisfy  him,  for  presently  he  said,  "  I  see  that  you 
trust  me,"  in  his  friendliest  way. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied. 

"  It's  a  great  gift — a  great  advantage,"  he  went 
189 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

on,  "  to  make  up  one's  mind  to  trust  and  then  to  do 
it  without  reserve.  ...  I  think  you  will  not  falter,  no 
matter  what  happens." 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  Well — you  came  to  just  the  right  person.  I 
don't  understand  it." 

"  Woman's  instinct,  perhaps." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  doubt  it.  That's  simply  a 
phrase  to  get  round  a  mystery.  No,  your  judgment 
guided  you  somehow.  Judgment  is  the  only  guide." 

Narcisse  had  been  debating;  she  could  not  see  how 
it  could  possibly  do  any  harm  to  mention  Neva.  "  Be 
fore  I  came  downtown,"  said  she,  "  it  drifted  into  my 
mind  that  I  might  have  to  come  to  you.  So  I  asked 
Neva  Carlin  about  you." 

"  Oh ! "  Armstrong  settled  back  in  his  chair 
abruptly  and  masked  his  face.  "  And  what  did  she 
say?" 

"  That  she  was  sure  you  wouldn't  do  anything 
small  or  mean." 

The  big  Westerner  suddenly  beamed  upon  her. 
"  Well,  she  ought  to  know,"  said  he  with  a  blush  and  a 
hearty,  boyish  laugh.  Then  earnestly :  "  I  think  I  can 
do  more  for  you  than  anyone  else  in  this  matter — and 
I  will.  You  must  say  nothing,  and  do  nothing.  Let 
everything  go  on  as  if  you  had  no  suspicion." 

"  But,  when  Mr.  Fosdick  does  not  send  me  the 
authorization  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  few  days ;  write,  reminding  him ;  then  let 
the  matter  drop." 

She  reflected ;  the  business  seemed  finished  so  far  as 
she  could  finish  it.  She  rose  and  put  out  her  hand. 
"  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply,  and  again,  with  a  fine 
look  in  her  fine  eyes,  "  Thank  you." 

190 


WOMAN'S   DISTRUST— AND   TRUST 

"  You  owe  me  nothing,"  he  replied.  "  In  the  first 
place,  I've  done  nothing,  and  I  can't  promise  ab 
solutely  that  I  can  do  anything.  In  the  second  place, 
you  have  given  me  some  extremely  valuable  informa 
tion.  In  return  I  merely  engage  not  to  use  it  to  as 
great  advantage  as  I  might  in  some  circumstances." 

In  the  entrance  hall  once  more,  she  wondered  at 
the  complete  change  in  her  state  of  mind.  She  now 
felt  content;  yet  she  had  nothing  tangible,  apparently 
less  than  at  the  end  of  her  interview  with  Fosdick — 
for  he  had  promised  something  definite,  while  Arm 
strong  had  merely  said,  "  I'll  do  my  best."  She 
wondered  at  her  content,  at  her  absolute  inability  to 
have  misgiving  or  doubt. 


191 


XV 


ARMSTRONG    SWOOPS 

ABOUT  an  hour  after  Narcisse  left  Fosdick,  he 
sent  for  Westervelt,  the  venerable  comptroller  of  the 
O.  A.  D.  But  Westervelt  came  before  the  message 
could  possibly  have  reached  him. 

Westervelt's  position — chief  financial  officer  of  one 
of  the  greatest  fiduciary  institutions  of  a  world  whose 
fiduciary  institutions  have  become  more  important  than 
its  governments — would  have  made  him  in  any  event 
important  and  conspicuous;  but  he  was  a  figure  in 
finance  large  out  of  all  proportion  to  his  office.  He 
was  one  of  the  stock  "  shining  examples "  of  Wall 
Street.  If  industry  was  talked  of,  what  more  natural 
than  to  point  to  old  Westervelt,  for  fifty  years  at  his 
desk  early  and  late,  without  ever  taking  a  vacation? 
If  honesty  was  being  discussed,  where  a  better  instance 
of  it  than  honest  old  Bill  Westervelt,  who  had  handled 
billions  yet  was  worth  only  a  modest  three  or  four 
millions?  If  fidelity  was  the  theme,  there  again  was 
old  Bill  with  his  long  white  whiskers,  refusing  offer 
after  offer  of  high  stations  because  he  was  loyal  to  the 
O.  A.  D.  Why,  he  had  even  refused  the  financial  place 
in  the  Cabinet !  If  anyone  had  been  unkind  enough  to 
suggest,  in  partial  mitigation  of  this  almost  oppres 
sive  saintliness,  that  old  Bill  had  no  less  than  ninety-six 
relatives  by  blood  and  marriage  in  good  to  splendid 

192 


ARMSTRONG  SWOOPS 


berths  in  the  O.  A.  D. ;  that  he  had  put  his  brother, 
his  two  sons  and  his  three  sons-in-law  in  positions 
where  they  had  made  fortunes  as  dealers  in  securities 
for  the  O.  A.  D.  and  its  allied  institutions ;  that  a  Cabi 
net  position  at  eight  thousand  a  year,  where  such 
duties  as  were  not  clerical  consisted  in  obeying  the 
"  advice  "  of  the  big  financial  lords,  would  have  small 
charm  for  a  man  so  placed  that  he  was  a  real  influence 
in  the  real  financial  councils  of  the  nation — if  such 
suggestions  as  these  had  been  made,  the  person  who 
made  them  would  have  been  denounced  as  a  cynic,  gan 
grened  with  envy.  If  anyone  had  ventured  to  hint 
that,  in  view  of  the  truly  monstrous  increase  in  the 
expenses  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  old  Bill's  industry  seemed  to 
be  bearing  rather  strange  fruit  for  so  vaunted  a  tree, 
and  that  his  fidelity  ought  to  have  a  vacation  while 
expert  accountants  verified  it — such  insinuations  would 
have  been  repelled  as  sheer  slander,  an  attempt  to  un 
dermine  the  confidence  of  mankind  in  the  reality  of  vir 
tue.  So  great  was  Westervelt's  virtue  that  he  himself 
had  come  to  revere  it  as  profoundly  as  did  the  rest  of 
the  world;  it  seemed  to  him  that  one  so  wholly  right 
could  do  no  wrong;  that  evil  itself,  passing  through 
the  crucible  of  that  white  soul  of  his,  emerged  as  good. 

Fosdick  simply  glanced  at  his  old  friend  and  as 
sociate  as  he  entered.  "  Hello,  Bill,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  was  just  going  to  send  for  you.  I  want  the  Siers- 
dorfs  suspended  from  charge  of  those  new  buildings. 
And  give  the  head  bookkeeper  of  the  real  estate  de 
partment  a  six  months'  vacation — say,  for  a  tour  of 
the  world." 

But  Westervelt  had  not  heard.  He  had  dropped 
into  a  chair,  and  was  white  as  his  whiskers,  and  the 
hand  with  which  he  was  stroking  them  was  shaking. 

193 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

As  he  did  not  reply,  Fosdick  looked  at  him.  "  Why, 
Bill,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  he  cried,  friendly  alarm  in 
voice  and  face.  "  Not  sick  ?  " 

"  I've  been — suspended,"  gasped  Westervelt.  "  I 
— suspended ! " 

Josiah  stared  at  him.  "  What  are  you  talking 
about?" 

"  Armstrong  has  just  suspended  me." 

"  Armstrong !  "  cried  Fosdick.  "  Why,  you're 
crazy,  man!  He's  got  no  more  authority  over  you 
than  he  has  over  me." 

"  He  sent  for  me  just  now,"  said  Westervelt,  "  and 
when  I  came  in  he  looked  savagely  at  me  and  said, 
'  Mr.  Westervelt,  you  will  take  a  vacation  until  fur 
ther  notice.  I  put  it  in  that  way  to  keep  the  scandal 
from  becoming  public.  You  can  say  you  have  become 
suddenly  ill.  You  will  leave  the  offices  at  once,  and 
not  return  until  I  send  for  you.' " 

Fosdick  was  listening  like  a  man  watching  the  fan 
tastic  procession  of  a  dream  which  not  even  the  wild 
imagination  of  a  sleeper  could  credit.  "  You're  crazy, 
Bill,"  he  repeated. 

"  I  laughed  at  him,"  continued  Westervelt.  "  And 
then  he  said — it  seems  to  me  I  must  really  be  crazy 
— but,  no,  he  said  it — '  We  have  reason  to  believe  that 
the  books  are  in  wild,  in  criminal  disorder,'  he  said. 
'  I  have  telegraphed  for  Brownell.  He  will  be  here 
in  the  morning  to  take  charge.'  " 

Fosdick  bounded  to  his  feet.  "  Brownell !  Why, 
he's  Armstrong's  old  side-partner  in  Chicago.  Brown 
ell  !  "  Fosdick's  face  grew  purple,  and  he  jerked  at  his 
collar  and  swung  his  head  and  rolled  his  eyes  and 
mouthed  as  if  he  were  about  to  have  a  stroke.  Then 
he  rushed  to  his  bell  and  leaned  upon  the  button. 

194 


ARMSTRONG   SWOOPS 


Waller  came  into  the  room,  terror  in  his  face.  "  Arm 
strong  !  "  cried  Fosdick.  "  Bring  him  here  —  in 
stantly  ! " 

But  it  was  full  ten  minutes  before  Waller  could 
find  and  bring  him.  In  that  time  Fosdick' s  mind  as 
serted  itself,  beat  his  passion  into  its  kennel  where  it 
could  be  kept  barred  in  or  released,  as  events  might  de 
termine.  "  Caution — caution !  "  he  said  to  Westervelt. 
"  Let  me  do  aU  the  talking." 

The  young  president  entered  deliberately,  with  im 
passive  countenance.  He  looked  calmly  at  Westervelt, 
then  at  Fosdick. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  what  I  want  to  see  you 
about,  Horace,"  Fosdick  began.  "  Sit  down.  There 
seems  to  be  some  sort  of  misunderstanding  between  you 
and  Westervelt — eh?" 

Armstrong  simply  sat,  the  upper  part  of  his  big 
frame  resting  by  the  elbows  upon  the  arms  of  his  chair, 
a  position  which  gave  him  an  air  of  impenetrable 
stolidity  and  immovable  solidity. 

When  Fosdick  saw  that  Armstrong  was  determined 
to  hold  his  guard,  he  went  on,  "  It  won't  do  for  you 
two  to  quarrel.  At  any  price  we  must  have  peace, 
must  face  the  world,  united  and  loyal.  I  want  to  make 
peace  between  you  two.  Westervelt  has  told  me  his 
side  of  the  story.  Now,  you  tell  me  yours." 

"  I  suspended  him,  pending  a  private  investigation 
— that's  all,"  said  Armstrong.  And  his  lips  closed  as 
if  that  were  all  he  purposed  to  say. 

Fosdick' s  eyes  gleamed  dangerously.  "  You  know, 
you  have  no  authority  to  suspend  the  comptroller  ?  " 
he  said  quietly. 

"That's  true." 

"  Then  he  is  not  suspended." 
195 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Yes,  he  is,"  said  Armstrong.  "  And  on  my  way 
down  here  I  looked  in  at  his  department  and  told  them 
he  was  ill  and  wouldn't  be  back  to-day." 

Westervelt  started  up.  "  How  dare  you ! "  he 
shrilled  in  the  undignified  fury  of  the  old. 

"Bill,  Bill!"  warned  Fosdick.  Then  to  Arm 
strong,  "  The  way  to  settle  it  is  for  Bill  to  go  home 
for  to-day.  In  the  morning,  he  will  return  to  his  work 
as  usual." 

"  Brownell  will  be  here,  will  be  in  charge,"  said 
Armstrong.  "  If  Westervelt  returns,  I'll  have  him  put 
out." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  ask  the  why  of  all  this?  " 
inquired  Fosdick. 

"  The  man's  been  up  to  some  queer  business," 
replied  Armstrong.  "  The  books  have  got  to  be 
straightened  out,  and  it  looks  as  if  he'd  have  to  dis 
gorge  some  pretty  big  sums." 

Westervelt  groaned  and  fell  heavily  back  into  his 
chair.  "  That  I  should  live  to  hear  such  insults  to 
me ! "  he  cried,  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 
Armstrong  simply  looked  at  him. 

"You  are  mistaken,  terribly  mistaken,  Horace," 
said  Fosdick  smoothly.  "  You  have  been  woefully  mis 
led."  He  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  dared  not 
break  with  Westervelt,  the  chief  stay  of  his  power  over 
the  staff  of  the  O.  A.  D. ;  yet  neither  did  he  dare,  just 
then  and  over  just  that  matter,  break  with  Arm 
strong. 

"If  Westervelt  is  innocent,"  replied  Armstrong, 
"  he  ought  to  be  laughing  at  me — for,  if  he's  innocent, 
I  have  ruined  myself." 

"  I  know  you  have  no  honor,  no  pride,"  cried  Wes 
tervelt.  "  But  have  you  no  sense  of  what  honor  and 

196 


ARMSTRONG   SWOOPS 


pride  are?  After  all  my  years  of  service,  after  build 
ing  high  my  name  in  this  community,  to  be  insulted 
by  an  adventurer  like  you!  How  do  I  know  what  you 
would  cook  up  against  me,  if  you  had  control  of  the 
books?  Fosdick,  we'll  have  the  board  together  this 
afternoon,  and  suspend  him !  " 

Fosdick  saw  the  look  in  Armstrong's  face  at  this. 
"  No,  no,  Bill,"  he  said.  "  We  must  sleep  on  this.  By 
morning  a  way  out  will  be  found." 

"  By  morning !  "  exclaimed  Westervelt.  "  I'll  not 
see  the  sun  go  down  with  a  cloud  shadowing  my  repu 
tation." 

"  Leave  me  alone  with  my  old  friend  for  a  few  min 
utes,  Horace,"  said  Fosdick. 

"  Certainly,"  agreed  Armstrong,  rising. 

"  I'll  come  up  to  see  you  presently,"  Fosdick  called 
after  him,  as  he  was  closing  the  door.  The  two  vet 
erans  were  alone.  Fosdick  said,  "  That  young  man  is 
a  very  ugly  customer,  Westervelt.  We  must  go  slowly 
if  we  are  to  get  rid  of  him  without  scandal." 

"  All  we've  got  to  do  is  to  throw  him  out,"  replied 
Westervelt.  "  What  reputable  man  or  newspaper 
would  listen  to  him?  And  if  he  has  hold  of  the  books 
for  a  few  weeks,  a  few  days  even,  he  can  twist  and 
turn  them  so  that  he  will  at  least  be  stronger  than  he 
is  now.  The  stupendous  impudence  of  the  man !  Why 
did  you  ever  let  him  get  into  the  company?  " 

"  Bad  judgment,"  said  Fosdick  gloomily.  "  I  had 
no  idea  he  was  so  short-sighted  or  so  swollen  with  his 
own  importance.  I  saw  only  his  ability.  But  we'll 
soon  be  rid  of  him." 

"  Can  it  be  that  he  has  gotten  wind  of  our  plans 
about  him  ?  "  said  Westervelt  uneasily. 

Fosdick  waved  his  hand.     "  Nobody   knows   them 
197 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

but  you  and  I.  Impossible.  I  haven't  even  let  Morris 
into  that  secret  yet.  Armstrong's  quite  sure  of  his 
ground — and  he  must  be  kept  sure.  When  he  goes, 
it  must  be  with  a  brand  on  him  that  will  make  him 
as  harmless  a  creature  as  there  is  in  the  world." 

"  But  the  books — he  must  not  get  hold  of  the 
books,"  persisted  Westervelt. 

"  I'll  see  to  that.  Can  you  suggest  any  way  to 
keep  him  quiet,  except  pretending  to  give  him  his  head 
at  present  ?  " 

Westervelt  reflected.  Suddenly  he  cried  out,  "  No, 
Josiah;  I  can't  let  him — anyone — handle  those  books. 
They're  my  reputation." 

"  But  you  have  got  them  into  good  shape  for  the 
legislative  investigation,  haven't  you?" 

"  Yes  —  certainly.  But  there  are  the  private 
books!" 

"  Um,"  grunted  Fosdick.     "  How  many  of  them  ?  " 

"  Three — beside  the  one  I  slipped  into  my  pocket 
on  my  way  down  here.  They're  too  big  to  take  away." 

"They  must  be  destroyed,"  said  Fosdick.  "Go 
now  and  get  them.  Have  them  carried  down  here  at 
once." 

Westervelt  hurried  away.  As  he  entered  his  office, 
he  was  astounded  at  seeing  Armstrong  seated  at  a  side 
desk,  dictating  to  a  stenographer.  At  sight  of  Wes 
tervelt,  Armstrong  started  up  and  went  to  meet  him. 
"  You  ought  not  to  be  lingering  here,  Mr.  Wester- 
Velt,"  he  said,  so  that  all  the  clerks  could  hear.  "  You 
owe  it  to  yourself  to  take  no  such  risk." 

"  I  forgot  a  little  matter,"  explained  Westervelt 
confusedly.  And  he  went  uncertainly  into  his  private 
office,  had  his  secretary  put  the  three  ledgers  and  ac 
count  books  together  and  wrap  them  up.  "  Now,"  said 

198 


ARMSTRONG   SWOOPS 


he,  "  take  the  package  down  to  Mr.  Fosdick's  office. 
I'll  go  with  you." 

As  they  emerged  into  the  outer  room,  he  glanced 
furtively  and  nervously  at  Armstrong;  Armstrong 
seemed  safely  absorbed  in  his  dictation.  Just  as  the 
two  reached  the  hall  door,  Armstrong,  without  looking 
up,  called,  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Westervelt — j  ust  a 
moment." 

Westervelt  jumped.  "  Go  on  with  the  books,"  said 
he  in  an  undertone  to  his  secretary.  "  I'll  come  di 
rectly." 

Armstrong  was  looking  at  the  secretary  now. 
"  Just  put  down  the  package,  please,"  he  said  care 
lessly.  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  the  comptroller  about  it." 

The  young  man,  all  unsuspicious  of  what  was  below 
the  smooth  surface,  obediently  put  down  the  package. 
Armstrong  drew  Westervelt  aside.  "  You  are  taking 
those  three  books,  and  the  one  I  see  bulging  in  your 
pocket,  down  to  Mr.  Fosdick,  aren't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Westervelt. 

"  Take  my  advice,"  said  Armstrong.     "  Don't." 

"  It's  merely  a  little  matter  I  wish  to  go  over  with 
him — a  few  minutes,"  stammered  Westervelt. 

"  I  understand  perfectly,"  said  Armstrong.  "  But 
is  it  wise  for  you  to  put  yourself  in  anybody's  power? 
Don't  hand  all  your  weapons  to  a  man  who  could  use 
them  against  you — and,  as  you  well  know,  would  do 
it  if  he  felt  compelled.  I  could  stop  you  from  making 
off  with  those  books.  I'm  tempted  to  do  it — curiously 
enough,  for  your  own  sake.  /  don't  need  them." 

Westervelt  was  studying  Armstrong's  frank  coun 
tenance  in  amazement.  "  He  expects  me,"  he  sug 
gested  uncertainly. 

"  Don't  leave  the  books  with  him,"  repeated  Arm- 
199 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

strong.  "  Don't  put  yourself  in  his  power."  He 
looked  at  Westervelt  with  an  expression  like  that  of 
a  man  measuring  a  leap  before  taking  it.  "  Take  the 
books  home,"  he  went  on  boldly.  "  Fosdick  has  been 
cheating  you  for  years.  I  will  come  to  see  you  at  your 
house  to-morrow  morning."  And  he  returned  to  his 
dictation,  leaving  the  old  man  hesitating  in  the  door 
way,  thoughtfully  fumbling  in  his  long  white  whiskers 
with  slow,  stealthy  fingers. 

In  the  corridor,  Westervelt  said  to  his  secretary, 
"  I  think  I'll  work  over  the  matter  at  home.  I'm  not 
so  sick  as  they  seem  to  imagine.  Jump  into  a  cab 
and  drive  up  to  my  house,  and  give  the  package  to 
my  wife.  Tell  her  to  take  care  of  it." 

When  Fosdick  saw  him  empty-handed,  he  was  in 
stantly  ablaze.  "  Has  that  scoundrel " 

"  No,  no,"  explained  his  old  friend,  "  I  got  the 
books,  all  right." 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  I  sent  them  uptown — up  to  my  house." 

"What  the  heU  did  you  do  that  for?  "  cried  Fos 
dick. 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  have  them  where  I  could 
personally  take  care  of  them,"  said  Westervelt,  his 
heart  bounding  with  delight.  For  Fosdick's  un 
guarded  tone  had  set  flaming  in  him  that  suspicion 
which  thoroughly  respectable  men  always  have  latent 
for  each  other,  in  circles  where  respectability  rests  en 
tirely  upon  deeds  that  in  the  less  respectable  or  on 
a  less  magnificent  scale  would  seem  quite  the  reverse 
of  respectable.  They  know  how  dear  reputation  is, 
how  great  sacrifices  of  friendship  and  honor  even  the 
most  honorable  and  generous  men  will  make  to  safe 
guard  it. 

200 


ARMSTRONG   SWOOPS 


"  Well,  well,"  said  Fosdick,  heaving  but  oily  of  sur 
face,  and  not  daring  to  pursue  the  subject  lest  Wes- 
tervelt  should  suspect  him.  "  You  sent  them  by  safe 
hands?" 

"  By  my  secretary,  and  to  my  wife,"  said  Wester- 
velt. 

They  kept  up  a  rather  strained  conversation  for 
half  an  hour,  chiefly  devoted  to  abuse  of  Armstrong — 
Westervelt's  abuse  was  curiously  lacking  in  heartiness, 
though  Fosdick  was  too  busy  with  his  own  thoughts 
to  note  it.  He  suddenly  interrupted  himself  to  say: 
"  Oh,  I  forgot.  Excuse  me  a  moment."  And  he  went 
into  the  next  room.  He  was  gone  three  quarters  of 
an  hour.  When  he  came  back,  he  said,  with  not  very 
convincing  carelessness,  "  While  I  was  out  there  talk 
ing  with  Waller,  it  occurred  to  me  that,  on  the  whole, 
the  books'd  be  safer  in  my  vaults.  So  I  took  the  lib 
erty  of  sending  him  up  to  get  them.  Your  wife  knows 
him." 

Westervelt  smiled  in  such  a  way  that  his  white  hair 
and  beard  and  patriarchal  features  combined  in  an 
aspect  of  beautiful  benevolence.  "  I  fear  he  won't  get 
them,  Josiah,"  said  he,  chuckling  softly. 

"  Then  you'd  better  telephone  her,"  said  Fosdick. 

"  I  have,  Josiah,"  said  his  old  pal,  with  a  glance 
at  the  telephone  on  Fosdick's  desk. 

The  veterans  looked  each  at  the  other,  Josiah  re 
proachfully.  "  Billy,  you  don't  trust  even  me,"  he  said 
sadly. 

"  I  trust  no  one  but  the  Lord,  Josiah,"  replied 
Westervelt. 


14  201 


XVI 


HUGO    SHOWS    HIS    METTLE 

FOSDICK  did  not  go  up  to  parley  with  the  insur 
gent  until  after  lunch,  until  he  had  thought  out  his 
game.  He  went  prepared  for  peace,  for  a  truce,  or 
for  war.  "  Horace,"  he  began,  "  there  are  many 
phases  to  an  enterprise  as  vast  as  this.  You  can't 
run  it  as  you  would  a  crossroads  grocery.  You  have 
got  to  use  all  sorts  of  men  and  measures,  to  adapt 
yourself  to  them,  to  be  broad  and  tolerant — and  diplo 
matic.  Above  all,  diplomatic."  And  he  went  on  for 
some  time  in  this  strain  of  commercial  commonplaces, 
feeling  his  way  carefully.  "  Now,  it  may  be  true — I 
don't  know,  but  it  may  be  true,"  he  ended,  "  that  Wes- 
tervelt,  in  conducting  his  part  of  the  affairs,  has  taken 
wider  latitude  than  perhaps  might  be  tolerated  in  a 
man  of  less  strength  and  standing.  We  must  consider 
only  results.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  just  as  well 
that  we  should  know  precisely  what  his  methods  have 
been." 

At  this  Armstrong's  impassive  face  showed  a 
gleam  of  interest.  "  That's  what  I  thought,"  said  he. 

"  But  it  wouldn't  do — it  wouldn't  do  at  all,  Horace, 
for  us  to  let  an  outsider  like  Brownell,  at  one  jump, 
into  the  secrets  of  the  company.  Why,  there's  no 
telling  what  he  would  do.  He  might  blackmail  us,  or 
sell  us  out  to  one  of  our  rivals." 


HUGO   SHOWS   HIS   METTLE 

"  What  have  you  to  propose  ?  "  said  Armstrong, 
impatient  of  these  puerile  preliminaries.  Fosdick  was 
as  clever  at  trickery  as  is  the  cleverest ;  but  at  its  best 
the  best  trickery  is  puerile,  once  the  onlooker,  or  even 
the  intended  victim,  is  on  the  alert. 

"  We  must  give  the  accounts  a  thorough  overhaul 
ing,"  answered  Fosdick.  "  But  it  must  be  done  by 
our  own  people.  I  propose  the  ordinary  procedure 
for  that  sort  of  thing — different  men  doing  different 
parts  of  it  piecemeal,  and  sending  their  reports  to  one 
central  man  who  collates  them.  In  that  way,  only  the 
one  man  knows  what  is  going  on  or  what  is  found  out." 

"  Who's  the  man  ?  "  asked  Armstrong. 

"  It  struck  me  that  Hugo,  being  one  of  the  fourth 
vice-presidents  and  so  in  touch  with  the  comptroller's 
department,  would  most  naturally  step  into  Wester- 
velt's  place  while  he  was  away." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Armstrong  cordially.  "  Hugo's 
the  very  person." 

Fosdick  had  not  dismissed  Westervelt's  suggestion 
that  Armstrong  might  be  countermining  so  summarily 
as  he  had  led  Westervelt  to  believe;  he  did  dismiss  it 
now,  however.  "  The  young  fool,"  he  decided,  "  just 
wanted  to  show  his  authority."  To  Armstrong  he  said, 
"  You  and  Hugo  can  work  together." 

"  No,  leave  it  to  Hugo,"  said  Armstrong.  "  I  am 
content  so  long  as  it  is  definitely  understood  that  I 
am  not  responsible.  Let  the  Executive  Committee  meet 
and  put  Hugo  formally  in  charge  during  Westervelt's 
absence." 

Fosdick  went  up  to  Westervelt's  house  to  see  him 
a  few  days  later;  to  his  surprise  the  old  bulwark  of 
public  and  private  virtue  seemed  completely  restored. 
And  Fosdick,  with  a  blindness  which  he  never  could 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

account  for,  was  content  with  his  explanation  that  he 
had  been  thinking  it  over  and  had  reached  the  con 
clusion  that  his  interests  were  perfectly  secure,  so  long 
as  he  had  the  four  books.  Without  a  protest  he 
acquiesced  in  the  appointment  of  Hugo.  And  so  it 
came  peacefully  about  that  Hugo,  convinced  that  no 
one  had  ever  undertaken  quite  so  important  a  task 
as  this  of  his,  set  himself  to  investigating  the  whole 
financial  department  of  the  O.  A.  D.  That  is  to  say, 
he  issued  the  orders  suggested  by  his  father,  issued 
them  to  subordinates  suggested  by  his  father,  and 
brought  to  his  father  the  reports  they  made  to  him. 

On  the  third  or  fourth  day  of  Westervelt's  "  ill 
ness,"  Fosdick  caught  a  cold  which  laid  him  up  with 
a  ferocious  attack  of  the  gout.  Most  of  the  reports 
which  the  subordinates  brought  to  Hugo  he  did  not 
understand;  but  he  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  ex 
amine  them,  and  spent  about  three  of  the  four  hours 
he  gave  to  business  each  day  in  marching  his  eye  sol 
emnly  down  the  columns  of  figures  and  explanations. 
And  thus  it  came  about  that  he  discovered  Armstrong's 
"  crime  "  —  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  which  had 
been  paid  to  Horace  Armstrong  on  his  own  or 
der  and  never  accounted  for ;  a  few  months  later, 
a  second  item  of  the  same  size  and  mystery;  a 
few  months  later,  a  third;  a  fourth,  a  fifth,  a  sixth 
and  so  on,  until  in  all  Armstrong  had  got  from 
the  company  on  his  own  order  no  less  than  three  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  which  he  never  ac 
counted.  "  A  thief !  "  exclaimed  Hugo.  "  I  might 
have  known!  These  low-born  fellows  of  no  breeding, 
that  rise  by  impudence  and  cunning,  always  steal." 

Hugo  did  not  go  to  his  father  with  his  startling 
discovery  of  this  shameful  raid  on  the  sacred  funds 

204 


HUGO    SHOWS   HIS   METTLE 

of  the  widows  and  orphans  of  the  O.  A.  D.  "  I'll  not 
worry  the  governor  when  he's  ill,"  he  reasoned.  "  Be 
sides,  he's  far  too  gentle  and  easygoing  with  Arm 
strong.  No,  this  is  a  matter  for  me  to  attend  to,  my 
self.  When  it's  all  over,  the  governor'll  thank  me. 
Anyhow,  it's  time  I  showed  these  people  downtown  that 
I  understand  the  game  and  can  play  it."  And  Hugo 
sent  for  Armstrong. 

Not  to  come  to  him  at  his  office;  but  to  call  on 
him  at  his  apartment  on  the  way  downtown :  "  Dear 
Sir — Mr.  Hugo  Fosdick  wishes  you  to  call  on  him 
at  the  above  address  at  nine  to-morrow  morning." — 
this  on  his  private  letter  paper  and  signed  by  his  sec 
retary. 

Hugo  had  taken  an  apartment  in  a  fashionable 
bachelor  flathouse  a  few  months  after  he  became  a 
fourth  vice-president.  He  was  not  ready  to  get  mar 
ried.  There  were  only  a  few  women — nine  girls  and 
two  widows — in  the  class  he  deemed  eligible,  that  is, 
having  the  looks,  the  family,  and  the  large  fortune, 
all  of  which  would  be  indispensable  to  an  aspirant  for 
his  hand.  And  of  these  eleven,  none  had  as  yet  shown  a 
sufficient  degree  of  appreciation.  Four  treated  him  as 
they  did  the  other  men  in  their  set — with  no  distin 
guishing  recognition  of  his  superiority  of  mind  and 
body.  Five  were  more  appreciative,  but  they  were, 
curiously  and  unfortunately  enough,  the  least  pleas 
ing  in  the  three  vital  respects.  However,  while  he  must 
put  off  marriage  until  he  should  find  his  affinity,  there 
was  no  reason  why  he  should  continue  in  the  paternal 
leading  strings ;  so,  he  set  up  an  establishment  befitting 
his  rank  and  wealth.  He  took  the  large  flat  with  its 
three  almost  huge  general  rooms;  and,  of  course  he 
furnished  it  in  that  comfortless  splendor  in  which  live 

205 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

those  of  the  civilized  and  semicivilized  world  in  whom 
prosperity  smothers  all  originality  or  desire  for  orig 
inality.  For  Hugo  was  most  careful  to  do  everything 
and  anything  expected  of  his  "  set  "  by  the  sly  middle- 
class  purveyors  who  think  out  the  luxuries  and  fash 
ions  by  which  they  live  off  the  vanities  and  convention 
alities  of  the  rich. 

When  Armstrong  appeared,  Hugo  had  been  shaved 
and  bathed  and  massaged  and  manicured  and  perfumed 
and  dressed ;  he  was  seated  at  a  little  breakfast  table 
drawn  near  the  open  fire  in  the  dining  room,  two  men 
servants  in  attendance — a  third  had  ushered  Arm 
strong  in.  He  was  arrayed  in  a  gray  silk  house  suit, 
with  facings  of  a  deeper  gray,  over  it  a  long  grayish- 
purple  silk  and  eiderdown  robe.  He  was  in  the  act  of 
lighting  a  cigarette  at  the  cut  glass  and  gold  lamp 
which  his  butler  was  holding  respectfully. 

"  Ah  —  Armstrong !  "  he  said,  with  that  high- 
pitched  voice  and  affected  accent  which  malces  the  per 
son  who  uses  it  seem  to  say,  "  You  will  note  that  I  am 
a  real  aristocrat."  Then  to  the  butler,  "  I  wish  to 
be  alone." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  butler,  with  a  bow.  The  other 
servant  bowed  also,  and  they  left  the  room. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Fosdick? "  said  Armstrong, 
seating  himself. 

Hugo  frowned  at  that  familiarity,  aggravated  by 
the  curt  tone.  "  I  shall  not  detain  you  long  enough 
for  you  to  be  at  the  trouble  of  seating  yourself,"  sajd 
he. 

Armstrong  reflected  on  this  an  instant  before  he 
grasped  what  Hugo  was  driving  at.  Then  he  smiled. 
"  Go  on — what  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  settling  himself. 

"  I  directed  you  to  come  here,"  said  Hugo,  "  be- 
206 


HUGO   SHOWS   HIS   METTLE 

cause  I  wished  to  avoid  every  possibility  of  scandal. 
I  assume  you  understood,  as  soon  as  you  got  my 
note?" 

Armstrong  looked  at  him  quizzically.  "  And  I 
came,"  said  he,  "  because  I  assumed  you  had  some  im 
portant,  very  private,  message  from  your  father.  I 
thought  perhaps  your  father  would  be  here." 

"  My  father  knows  nothing  of  this,"  said  Hugo. 
"  I  thought  it  more  humane  to  spare  him  the  pain  of 
discovering  that  a  servant  he  regarded  as  faithful  had 
shamefully  betrayed  him." 

"  I  might  have  known ! "  exclaimed  Armstrong 
with  good-natured  disgust,  rising.  "  So  you  brought 
me  here  to  discuss  some  trifle  about  your  servants. 
Some  day,  if  I  get  the  leisure,  my  young  friend,  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  think  of  you.  But  not  to-day.  Good 
morning." 

"  Stop !  "  commanded  Hugo.  As  Armstrong  did 
not  stop,  he  said,  "  I  have  discovered  your  thefts  from 
the  company." 

Armstrong  wheeled,  blanched.  He  looked  hard  at 
young  Fosdick;  then  he  slowly  returned  to  his  chair. 
"  I  understand,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  most  unlike  his 
own. 

"  And  I  sent  for  you,"  continued  Hugo  triumph 
antly,  "  to  tell  you  I  will  permit  you  quietly  to  re 
sign.  You  will  write  out  your  resignation  at  the  desk 
in  the  next  room.  I  shall  present  it  to  the  Board, 
and  shall  see  that  it  is  accepted  without  scandal  or 
question.  Of  course,  so  far  as  you  are  able,  you  must 
make  good  your  shortage.  But  I  shall  not  be  hard 
on  you.  I  appreciate  that  chaps  like  you  are  often 
tempted  beyond  their  powers  of  resistance." 

By  this  time  Armstrong  was  smiling  so  broadly 
207 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

that  Hugo,  absorbed  though  he  was  in  his  own  role  of 
the  philosophic  gentleman,  had  to  see  it.  He  broke  off, 
reddened,  rose  and  drew  himself  to  his  full  height — 
and  a  very  elegant  figure  he  was.  Armstrong  looked 
up  at  him  from  his  indolent  lounge  in  the  big  chair. 
"Did  you  pose  that  before  a  cheval  glass,  Hugo?" 
he  said,  in  a  pleasant,  contemptuous  tone. 

"  You  will  force  me  to  the  alternative,"  cried 
Hugo  furiously. 

Armstrong  got  up.  "  Go  ahead,  old  man,"  he  said. 
"  Do  whatever  you  please.  Better  talk  to  your  father 
first,  though."  He  glanced  round.  "  You're  very 
gorgeous  here — too  gorgeous  for  the  hard-working, 
poor  people  who  pay  for  it.  I'll  have  to  interfere." 
He  smiled  at  Hugo  again,  but  there  was  an  unpleas 
ant  glitter  in  his  eyes.  "  You  are  suspended  from  the 
fourth  vice-presidency,"  he  went  on  tranquilly.  "  And 
you  will  vacate  these  premises  before  noon  to-day.  See 
that  you  take  nothing  with  you  that  belongs  to  the 
O.  A.  D.  If  you  do,  I'll  have  you  in  a  police  court.  Be 
out  before  noon.  Brownell  will  be  up  at  that  hour." 

Hugo  stood  staring.  This  effrontery  was  unbe 
lievable.  Before  he  could  recover  himself,  Armstrong 
was  gone.  He  sat  down  and  slowly  thought  it  out. 
Yes,  it  was  true,  the  flat  had  been  taken  nominally  as 
an  uptown  branch  of  the  O.  A.  D.  home  office ;  much  of 
the  furniture  had  been  paid  for  by  the  company;  sev 
eral  of  the  servants  were  on  the  pay  roll  as  clerks  and 
laborers ;  yes,  he  had  even  let  the  O.  A.  D.  pay  grocery 
and  wine  bills — was  he  not  like  his  father — did  not 
everything  he  did,  everything  he  ate  and  drank,  con 
tribute  to  the  glory  and  stability  of  the  O.  A.  D.?  He 
was  but  following  the  established  usage  among  the 
powers  that  deigned  to  guard  the  financial  interests 

208 


HUGO   SHOWS   HIS   METTLE 

of  the  people.  Perhaps,  he  carried  the  system  a  little 
further,  more  frankly  further,  than  some;  but  logi 
cally,  legitimately.  Still,  Armstrong  was  president, 
had  nominally  the  authority  to  make  things  unpleasant 
for  him. 

He  looked  at  the  clock — it  was  ten ;  no  time  to  lose. 
He  rushed  into  his  clothes,  darted  into  his  waiting 
brougham  and  drove  home.  The  doctor  was  with  his 
father ;  he  had  to  wait,  pacing  and  fuming,  until  nearly 
eleven  before  he  could  get  admission.  The  old  man, 
haggard  and  miserable,  was  stretched  on  a  sofa-bed  be 
fore  the  fire  in  his  sitting  room.  "  Well,  what  do  you 
want?  "  he  said  sharply. 

Hugo  did  not  pause  to  choose  words.  "  I  found 
in  the  books,"  said  he,  "  where  Armstrong  had  taken 
three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  from  us — 
from  the  company.  I  thought  I'd  not  worry  you  with 
it.  So  I  sent  for  him  to  come  to  my  rooms." 

"  What !  "  yelled  Fosdick,  getting  his  breath  which 
had  gone  at  the  first  shock.  "  What  the  damnation ! 
You  sprung  my  trap !  You  f  ool !  " 

"  I  ordered  him  to  resign,"  Hugo  hastened  on. 
"  And  he  refused,  and  ordered  me  to  vacate  my  rooms 
before  noon — because  the  lease  stands  in  the  name  of 
the  company.  And  he  suspended  me  as  vice-president." 

"  Good,  good ! "  shouted  Fosdick,  his  thin,  wire- 
like  hair,  his  gaunt  face,  his  whole  lean  body  streaming 
fury.  "  Why  has  God  cursed  me  with  such  a  son  as 
this !  How  dare  you !  You  wretched  idiot !  You  have 
ruined  us  all !  " 

Hugo  cowered.  Making  full  allowance  for  his 
father's  physical  pain  and  violent  temper,  there  was 
still  that  in  the  old  man's  face  which  convinced  Hugo 
he  had  made  a  frightful  blunder.  "  I'll  vacate,"  he 

209 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

said,  near  to  whimpering,  "  I'll  do  whatever  you 
say." 

"  Give  me  that  telephone !  "  ordered  the  old  man. 

Fosdick  got  the  O.  A.  D.  building  and  Armstrong's 
office.  And  soon  Armstrong's  voice  came  over  the  wire. 
"  Is  that  you,  Armstrong — Horace — ?  Yes,  I  recog 
nize  your  voice.  This  is  Fosdick.  That  fool  boy  of 
mine  has  just  told  me  what  he  did." 

"  Yes,"  came  in  Armstrong's  noncommittal  voice. 

"  I  want  to  say  you  did  perfectly  right  in  order 
ing  him  to  vacate." 

"Thanks." 

"  He'll  be  out  by  the  time  you  set.  His  resignation 
as  vice-president  is  on  the  way  downtown.  I'm  send 
ing  him  to  apologize  to  you.  I  want  to  do  every 
thing,  anything  to  show  my  deep  humiliation,  my  deep 
regret." 

No  answer  from  the  other  end  of  the  wire. 

"  Are  you  there,  Horace  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  I  made  myself  clear  ?  Is  there  anything 
I  can  do?" 

"Nothing.     Is  that  all?" 

"  Can  you  come  up  here  ?  It's  impossible  for  me 
to  leave  my  bedroom — simply  out  of  the  question." 

"  I'm  too  busy  this  morning." 

"This  afternoon?" 

"  Not  to-day.     Good-by." 

The  ring-off  sounded  mockingly  in  the  old  man's 
ear.  With  an  oath  he  caught  up  the  telephone  ap 
paratus  and  flung  it  at  Hugo's  head.  "  Ass !  Ass !  " 
he  shouted,  shaking  his  cane  at  his  son,  who  had  barely 
dodged  the  heavy  instrument.  "  Vacate  that  apart 
ment  !  Take  the  first  steamer  for  Europe !  And  don't 

210 


HUGO    SHOWS   HIS   METTLE 

you  show  up  in  town  again  until  I  give  you  leave. 
Hide  yourself !  Ass !  Ass !  " 

Hugo  scudded  like  a  swallow  before  a  tempest. 
"  Is  there  any  depth,"  he  said  when  he  felt  at  a  safe 
distance,  "  any  depth  to  which  father  wouldn't  descend, 
for  the  sake  of  money — and  drag  us  down  with  him?  " 
He  admitted  that  perhaps  he  had  not  acted  altogether 
discreetly.  "  I  oughtn't  to  have  roused  Armstrong's 
envy  by  letting  him  see  my  rooms."  Still,  that  could 
have  been  easily  repaired.  Certainly,  it  wasn't  neces 
sary  to  grovel  before  an  employee — "  and  a  damned 
thief  at  that."  By  the  time  he  reached  his  apartments, 
he  was  quite  restored  to  favor  with  himself.  He  hur 
ried  the  servants  away,  telephoned  for  a  firm  of  pack 
ers  and  movers  to  come  at  once.  As  he  rang  off,  a 
call  came  for  him.  He  recognized  the  voice  of  Arm 
strong's  secretary. 

"Is  that  Mr.  Hugo  Fosdick?  Well,  Mr.  Arm 
strong  asks  me  to  say  that  it  won't  be  necessary  for 
you  to  give  up  those  offices  uptown  to-day,  that  you 
can  keep  them  as  long  as  you  please." 

"  Aha !  "  thought  Hugo,  triumphant  again.  "  He 
has  come  to  his  senses.  I  knew  it — I  knew  he  would !  " 
To  the  secretary  he  simply  said,  "  Very  well,"  and 
rang  up  his  father.  It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  be 
fore  he  could  get  him ;  the  wire  was  busy.  At  his  first 
word,  the  old  man  said,  "  Ring  off  there !  I  don't 
want  to  hear  or  see  you.  You  take  that  steamer  to 
morrow  ! " 

"  Armstrong  has  weakened,  father,"  cried  Hugo. 

"  What ! "  answered  the  old  man,  not  less  savage, 
but  instantly  eager. 

"  He  has  just  telephoned,  practically  apologizing, 
and  asking  me  not  to  disturb  myself  about  the  apart- 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

ment.  I  knew  he'd  come  down  when  he  thought  it 
over." 

A  silence,  then  his  father  said  in  a  milder  tone: 
"  Well — you  keep  away  from  the  office.  Don't  touch 
business,  don't  go  near  it,  until  I  tell  you  to.  And 
don't  come  near  me  till  I  send  for  you.  What  else 
did  Armstrong  say  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I  told  you — nothing  more.  But  when 
I  see  him,  he'll  apologize,  no  doubt." 

"  See  that  you  don't  see  him,"  snapped  the  old  man. 
"  Keep  away  from  anybody  that  knows  anything  of 
business.  Keep  to  that  crowd  of  empty-heads  you 
travel  with.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,  father,"  said  Hugo,  in  the  respectful  tone 
he  never,  in  his  most  supercilious  mood,  forgot  to  use 
toward  the  custodian  and  arbiter  of  his  prospects. 


XVII 


ARMSTRONG  would  not  have  protested  Raphael's 
favorite  fling  at  the  financial  district  as  "  a  wallow  of 
dishonor  " ;  and  Boris's  description  of  him  as  reeking 
the  slime  of  the  wallow  was  no  harsher  than  what  he 
was  daily  thinking  about  himself. 

The  newspapers  were  shrieking  for  a  "  real  clean 
ing  of  the  Augean  stables  of  finance " ;  the  political 
figureheads  of  "  the  interests "  were  solemnly  and 
sonorously  declaiming  that  there  must  be  no  repetition 
of  former  fiascos  and  fizzles,  when  nobody  had  been 
punished,  though  everybody  had  been  caught  black- 
handed.  The  prosecuting  officers  were  protesting  that 
the  plea  of  the  guilty  that  they  were  "  gentlemen  "  and 
"  respectable "  would  not  again  avail.  So,  Wall 
Street's  wise  knew  that  the  struggle  between  Fosdick 
and  Atwater  was  near  its  crisis.  Throughout  the 
"  wallow,"  banks  and  trust  companies,  bond  houses  and 
bucket  shops,  all  the  eminent  respectabilities,  were 
"  hustling "  to  get  weathertight.  Everyone  appre 
ciated  that  Fosdick  and  Atwater,  prudent  men,  patron 
saints  of  "  stability,"  would  be  careful  to  confine  the 
zone  of  war  strictly.  But — what  would  they  regard 
as  the  prudent  and  proper  limits  of  this  release  and 
use  of  public  anger?  Neither  faction  was  afraid  of 
law,  of  serious  criminal  prosecution ;  however  the 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

authorities  might  be  compelled  to  side,  they  would  not 
yield  to  popular  clamor — beyond  making  the  usual 
bluff  necessary  to  fool  the  public  until  it  forgot.  But 
these  exposures  which  had  now  become  a  regular  part 
of  the  raids  of  the  great  men  on  each  other's  pre 
serves  always  tended  to  make  the  public  shy  for  a  while ; 
and  the  royalty,  nobility,  and  gentry  of  the  fashion 
able  hierarchy,  had  to  meet  the  enormous  expenses  of 
their  families,  their  establishments,  and  their  retinues 
of  dependents,  never  less,  ever  more.  They  could  ill 
afford  any  cessation  or  marked  slackening  of  the  in 
flow  of  wealth  from  the  industrious  and  confiding, 
or  covetous,  masses — covetous  rather  than  confiding, 
since  the  passion  of  the  average  man  for  gambling,  for 
getting  something  for  nothing,  is  an  even  larger  fac 
tor  in  the  successful  swindling  operations  of  enthroned 
respectability  than  is  his  desire  for  a  safe,  honest  in 
vestment  of  his  surplus.  Finally,  the  uneasy  upper 
classes  remembered  that  usually  these  exposures  re 
sulted  in  the  sacrifice  of  some  of  them;  an  unlucky 
financier  or  group  of  financiers  was  loaded  down  with 
the  blame  for  the  corruption  and,  amid  the  execration 
of  the  crowd  and  the  noisy  denunciation  of  fellow 
financiers,  was  sent  away  into  the  wilderness,  disgraced 
so  far  as  a  man  can  be  disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  money- 
worshipers  when  he  still  has  his  wealth.  Rarely  did 
the  sacrifice  extend  further  than  disgrace;  still,  that 
was  no  light  matter,  as  it  meant  lessened  opportunities 
to  share  in  the  looting  which  was  soon  resumed  with 
increased  energy  and  success.  The  disgraced  financier 
had  to  live  on  what  he  had  acquired  before  his  dis 
grace,  instead  of  keeping  that  intact,  and  paying  his 
expenses,  and  adding  to  his  fortune,  too,  out  of  fresh 
loot. 


FIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

Altogether,  it  was  wise  to  get  good  and  ready — 
to  "  dress  "  the  shelves  and  the  back  of  the  shop  as 
well  as  the  windows  and  front  cases ;  to  destroy  or 
hide  suspicious  books  and  memoranda;  to  shift  con 
fidential  clerks ;  to  distribute  vacations  to  Europe 
among  employees,  open  and  secret,  with  dangerous  in 
formation  and  a  tendency  toward  hysterical  and  loose 
talking  under  cross-examination ;  to  retain  all  the  able 
lawyers,  and  all  those  related  by  blood,  marriage,  or 
business  to  legislators,  prosecuting  officers,  and  power 
ful  politicians ;  to  confer  discreetly  as  to  the  exact 
facts  of  certain  transactions,  "  so  that  we  may  not 
make  any  blunders  and  apparent  contradictions  on  the 
witness  stand."  And  the  lawyers — how  busy  they 
were!  The  aristocrats  of  the  legal  profession  were 
as  brisk  as  are  their  humbler  fellows  on  the  eve  of  a 
"  tipped-off  "  raid  on  a  den  of  "  swell  crooks."  In 
fact,  the  whole  business  had  the  air  of  a  very  cheap 
and  vulgar  kind  of  crookedness ;  and  the  doings  of 
the  great  men  were  strange  indeed,  in  view  of  their 
pose  as  leaders  by  virtue  of  superiority  in  honest  skill. 
An  impartial  observer  might  have  been  led  to  wonder 
whether  honest  men  had  not  been  driven  from  leader 
ship  because  they  would  not  stoop  to  the  vilenesses 
by  which  "  success  "  was  gained,  and  not  because  they 
were  less  in  brain.  As  for  such  conduct  in  men  lauded 
as  "  bold,"  "  brave,"  "  courageous  beyond  the  power 
to  quail  " — it  was  simply  inexplicable.  The  "  dare 
devil  leaders "  were  acting  like  a  pack  of  shifty 
cowards  engaged  in  robbing  a  safe  and  just  hearing 
the  heavy,  regular  tread  of  a  police  patrol  under  the 
windows. 

Armstrong  was  too  absorbed  in  the  game  for  much 
analysis  or  theorizing ;  still,  his  lip  did  curl  at  the  spec- 

215 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

tacle — and  in  part  his  sneer  was  self -contempt.  "  It's 
disgusting,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  that  to  keep  alive 
among  these  scoundrels  and  guard  the  interests  one  is 
intrusted  with,  one  must  do  or  tolerate  so  many  des 
picable  things."  As  that  view  of  the  matter  was  the 
one  which  every  man  in  the  district  was  taking,  each 
to  excuse  himself  to  himself,  there  was  not  an  uncom 
fortable  conscience  or  a  shame-reddened  cheek  or  a 
slinking  eye.  Once  a  man  becomes  convinced  that  his 
highest  duty  is  not  to  himself,  but  to  his  fellow  man, 
the  rest  is  easy ;  the  greater  his  "  self-sacrifice "  of 
honesty,  decency,  and  self-respect  for  the  sake  of  the 
public  good — for  country  or  religion  or  "  stability  " 
or  "  to  keep  the  workingman's  family  from  starving  " 
— the  more  sympathetic  and  enthusiastic  is  his  con 
science. 

When  the  financial  district  was  at  the  height  of 
its  activity  in  getting  weathertight  for  the  approach 
ing  investigation,  Fosdick  shook  off  his  savage  enemy, 
the  gout,  and  got  downtown  again.  He  went  direct 
from  his  carriage  to  Armstrong's  offices.  He  greeted 
his  "  man  "  as  cordially  as  if  he  had  not  just  been 
completing  the  arrangements  by  which  he  expected 
to  make  Armstrong  himself  the  first  conspicuous  vic 
tim  of  the  investigation.  And  Armstrong  received 
and  returned  the  greeting  with  no  change  in  his 
usual  phlegmatic  manner  to  hint  his  feelings  or  his 
plans. 

"  About  Hugo — "  began  Josiah. 

Armstrong  made  a  gesture  of  dismissal.  "  That's 
a  closed  incident.  Any  news  of  the  committee?" 

Josiah  accepted  the  finality  of  Armstrong's  man 
ner.  "  You  show  yourself  a  man  in  ignoring  the  flap 
pings  and  squawkings  of  that  young  cockatoo,"  said 

216 


FIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

he  cheerfully.  "  As  for  the  committee —  What  do 
you  think  of  Morris  for  counsel?  " 

"You've  decided  on  him?"  said  Armstrong.  His 
eyes  wandered. 

But  Fosdick  was  not  subtle,  and  thought  noth 
ing  of  that  slight  but,  in  one  so  close,  most  significant 
sign  of  a  concealing  mind.  "  It's  settled,"  replied  he. 
"Joe's  an  honorable  man.  Also,  he's  tied  fast  to 'us, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  public  can't  charge  that  he's 
one  of  our  lawyers.  I  know,  you  and  he — "  There 
Fosdick  stopped.  He  prided  himself  on  a  most  gen 
tlemanly  delicacy  in  family  matters. 

"  He'll  take  orders  ?  "  said  Armstrong,  with  no  sug 
gestion  that  he  either  saw  cause  for  "  delicacy  "  or 
appreciated  it. 

"  I  suppose  he  would,  if  it  were  necessary.  But, 
thank  God,  Horace,  it  isn't.  As  I  told  him  at  my 
house  last  night,  after  the  governor  and  I  had  decided 
on  him — I  said  to  him :  *  Joe,  go  ahead  and  make  a 
reputation  for  yourself.  We  fear  nothing — we've  got 
nothing  to  hide  that  the  public  has  a  right  to  know. 
Tear  the  mask  off  those  damned  scoundrels  who  are 
trying  to  seize  the  O.  A.  D.  and  change  it  from  a  great 
bulwark  of  public  safety  into  a  feeder  for  their  reck 
less  gambling.'  " 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  "  inquired  Armstrong — a 
simple  inquiry,  with  no  hint  of  the  cynical  amusement 
it  veiled. 

"  He  was  moved  to  tears,  almost,"  replied  Fosdick, 
damp  of  eye  himself  at  the  recollection.  "  And  he 
said :  '  Thank  you,  Mr.  Fosdick,  and  you,  Governor 
Hartwell.  I'll  regard  this  commission  as  a  sacred 
trust.  I'll  be  careful  not  to  give  encouragement  to 
calumny  or  to  make  the  public  uneasy  and  suspicious 
15  217 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

where  there  is  no  just  reason  for  uneasiness  and  sus 
picion  ;  and  at  the  same  time  I'll  expose  these  men  who 
have  been  prostituting  the  name  of  financier.'  You 
really  ought  to  have  heard  him." 

An  inarticulate  sound  came  from  behind  the  West 
erner's  armor  of  stolid  apathy. 

"  Horace,  he's  a  noble  fellow,"  continued  Fosdick, 
assuming  that  his  "  man  "  was  sympathetic.  "  And  he 
knows  the  law  from  cover  to  cover.  He  has  drawn 
some  of  our  best  statutes,  and  whenever  I've  got  into 
a  place  where  it  looked  as  if  the  howling  of  the  mob 
was  going  to  stop  business,  I've  always  called  on  him 
to  get  up  a  statute  that  would  make  the  mob  happy 
and  not  interfere  with  us,  and  he  has  never  failed  me. 
By  the  time  he's  fifty,  he'll  be  one  of  the  strongest  men 
in  the  country — the  kind  of  man  the  business  inter 
ests  'd  like  to  see  in  the  White  House.  If  it  weren't 
for  that  fool  wife  of  his !  Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Armstrong. 

Fosdick  decided  that  "  delicacy  "  was  unnecessary, 
as  Armstrong  was  out  of  the  Carlin  family.  "  It's  all 
very  well,"  said  he,  "  for  a  young  fellow  to  go  crazy 
about  a  girl  when  he's  courting.  But  to  keep  on  being 
crazy  about  her  after  they've  got  used  to  each  other 
and  settled  down — it's  past  me.  It  defeats  the  whole 
object  of  marriage,  which  is  to  steady  a  man,  to  take 
woman  off  his  mind,  and  give  him  peace  for  his  work. 
In  my  opinion,  there's  too  much  talk  about  love  now 
adays.  It  ain't  decent  — it  ain't  decent  \  And  it's  set 
ting  the  women  crazy,  with  so  much  idle  time  on  their 
hands.  Morris  is  stark  mad  about  that  wife  of  his, 
and  all  he  gets  out  of  it  is  what  a  man  usually  gets 
when  he  makes  a  fool  of  himself  for  a  woman.  She 
thinks  of  nothing  but  spending  money,  and  she  keeps 

218 


FIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

him  poor.  The  faster  he  earns,  the  wilder  she  spends. 
I  suppose  he  thinks  she  cares  for  him — when  working 
him  is  simply  a  business  with  her." 

If  Fosdick  had  known  what  Mrs.  Morris  was  about 
at  that  very  hour,  there  would  have  been  even  more 
energy  in  his  denunciation  of  her.  As  soon  as  her  hus 
band  had  got  home  the  previous  night,  he  had  confided 
to  her  the  whole  of  his  new  and  dazzling  opportunity 
— not  only  all  that  his  secret  employer  expected  him 
to  make  of  it  but  all  that  he  purposed  to  make  of  it. 
She  was  not  a  discreet  woman ;  so,  it  was  fortunate 
for  him  that  her  listening  when  he  talked  "  shop,"  as 
she  called  his  career,  was  a  pretense.  She  gathered 
only  what  was  important  to  her — that  he  felt  sure  of 
making  a  great  deal  out  of  the  new  venture. 

He  meant  reputation ;  she  assumed  that  he  meant 
money.  She  began  to  spend  it  the  very  next  day. 
Even  as  Josiah  Fosdick  was  denouncing  her,  she  was 
in  an  art  store  negotiating  for  a  set  of  medieval  tapes 
tries  for  her  salon.  As  antiques,  the  tapestries  were 
wonderful — wonderful,  like  so  large  a  part  of  the  an 
tiques  that  multimillionaires  have  brought  over  for 
their  houses  and  for  the  museums — wonderful  as  speci 
mens  of  the  ingenuity  of  European  handicraftsmen  at 
forgery.  As  works  of  art,  the  tapestries  were  atro 
cious  ;  as  household  articles,  they  were  dangerous — 
filthy,  dust-  and  germ-laden  rags.  But  "  everybody  " 
was  getting  antique  tapestries ;  Mrs.  Morris  must  have 
them.  She  was  an  interesting  and  much-admired  rep 
resentative  of  the  American  woman  who  goes  in  seri 
ously  for  art.  To  go  in  seriously  for  art  does  not 
mean  to  cultivate  one's  sense  of  the  beautiful,  to  learn 
to  discriminate  with  candor  among  good,  not  so  good, 
not  so  bad,  and  bad.  It  means  to  keep  in  touch  with 

219 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

the  European  dealers  in  things  artistic,  real  and  re 
puted;  to  be  the  first  to  follow  them  when,  a  particu 
lar  fad  having  been  mined  to  its  last  dollar,  they  and 
their  subsidized  critics  and  connoisseurs  come  out  ex 
citedly  for  some  new  period  or  style  or  school.  Mrs. 
Morris  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  first  authorities  in 
fashionable  New  York  on  matters  of  art.  Her  house 
was  enormously  admired;  she  was  known  to  every 
dealer  from  Moscow  to  the  tip  of  the  Iberian  penin 
sula;  and  incredible  were  the  masses  of  trash  they  had 
worked  off  upon  her  and,  through  her  recommenda 
tions,  upon  her  friends. 

Her  "  amazing  artistic  discernment  " — so  Sunny- 
wall,  the  most  fashionable  of  the  fashionable  architects, 
described  it — was  the  bulwark  of  her  social  position. 
Whenever  a  voice  lifted  against  the  idle  lives  of  fash 
ionable  people,  how  conclusive  to  reply,  "  Look  at  Mrs. 
Joe  Morris — she's  typical.  She  devotes  her  life  to 
art.  It's  incalculable  what  she  has  done  toward 
interesting  the  American  people  in  art."  She  even 
had  fame  in  a  certain  limited  way.  Her  name 
was  spoken  with  respect  from  Maine  to  California 
in  those  small  but  conspicuous  circles  where  pos 
session  of  more  or  less  wealth  and  a  great  deal  of 
empty  time  has  impelled  the  women  to  occupy  them 
selves  with  books,  pictures,  statuary,  furniture  they 
think  they  ought  to  like.  To  what  fantastic  climaxes 
prosperity  has  brought  the  old  American  passion  for 
self-development !  The  men,  to  shrewd  and  shameless 
prostitution  in  the  market-places;  the  women,  to  the 
stupefying  ignorance  of  the  culture  that  consists  in 
the  mindless  repetitions  of  the  slang  and  cant  and  non 
sense  of  intellectual  fakirs,/ 

Mrs.  Morris  told  her  husband  about  the  new  tap- 
220 


VIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

estries  at  dinner.  That  was  her  regular  time  for 
imparting  to  him  anything  she  knew  he  would  be 
"  troublesome  "  about ;  and  it  was  rapidly  ruining  his 
digestion.  She  chose  dinner  because  the  presence  of 
the  servants  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  burst  out 
until  the  fact  that  the  thing  was  done  and  could  not 
be  undone  had  time  to  batter  down  his  wrath.  Usually 
she  spoke  between  soup  and  fish — she  spoke  thus  early 
that  she  might  gain  as  much  time  as  possible.  So 
often  did  she  have  these  upsetting  communications  to 
make  that  he  got  in  the  habit  of  dreading  those  two 
courses  as  a  transatlantic  captain  dreads  the  Devil's 
Hole ;  and  on  evenings  when  the  fish  had  come  and  gone 
with  nothing  upsetting  from  her,  he  had  a  sudden, 
often  exuberant  rush  of  high  spirits. 

"  I  dropped  in  at  Violette's  to-day  for  another 
look  at  those  tapestries,"  she  began. 

At  "  Violette's  "  he  paused  in  lifting  the  spoon  to 
his  lips ;  at  "  tapestries  "  he  pricked  his  ears — one  of 
the  greatest  trials  of  his  wife's  married  life  was  that 
independent  motion  of  his  ears,  "  just  like  one  of  the 
lower  animals  or  something  in  a  side  show,"  she  often 
complained. 

"  And  I  simply  couldn't  resist,"  she  ended,  look 
ing  like  a  happy,  spoiled  child.  He  dropped  the  spoon 
with  a  splash. 

"  Do  be  careful,  Joe,"  she  remonstrated  sweetly. 
"  We  can't  change  the  dinner  -  cloth  every  night, 
and  such  frequent  washing  is  ruinous.  I  had  them 
sent  home,  and  vou'll  be  entranced  when  you  see 
them." 

"Did  you  give  Violette  his  original  price?"  he 
demanded,  as  his  color,  having  reached  an  apoplectic 
blue-red,  began  to  pale  toward  the  normal. 

221 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  He  wouldn't  come  down  a  cent.  And  I  dont 
blame  him." 

Morris  glowered  at  the  butler  and  the  footman. 
They  went  about  their  business  as  if  quite  unconscious 
of  the  work  of  peace  they  were  doing — and  were  ex 
pected  by  their  mistress  to  do.  Mrs.  Morris  talked  on 
and  on,  pretending  to  assume  that  he  was  as  delighted 
with  her  purchase  as  was  she.  She  discoursed  of  these 
particular  tapestries,  of  tapestries  in  general,  of  the 
atmosphere  they  brought  into  a  house — "  the  sugges 
tion,  the  very  spirit  of  the  old,  beautiful  life  of  the 
upper  classes  in  the  Middle  Ages."  By  the  time  din 
ner  was  over  she  had  talked  herself  so  far  away  from 
the  sordid  things  of  life  that  the  coarsest  nature  would 
have  shrunk  from  intruding  them.  But  on  that  even 
ing  Morris  was  angry  through  and  through.  When 
they  left  the  dining  room,  she  said,  "  Now,  come  and 
look  at  them,  dear." 

"  No,"  he  said  savagely.  He  threw  open  the  door 
of  his  study.  "  Come  in  here.  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

She  hesitated.  A  glance  at  his  fury-blanched  face 
convinced  her  that,  if  she  made  it  necessary,  he  would 
seize  her  and  thrust  her  in.  As  the  door  closed  on 
them  with  a  bang,  the  butler  said  to  the  footman, 
"  Letty's  done  it  once  too  often." 

The  footman  tiptoed  toward  the  door.  The  butler 
stopped  him  with,  "  You  couldn't  hear  bloody  murder 
through  that  study  door,  and  the  keyhole's  no  good." 

"  Why  didn't  he  take  her  to  her  boudoir  ?  "  grum 
bled  the  footman. 

She  had  indeed  "  done  it  once  too  often."  As  soon 
as  Morris  had  the  door  locked  he  blazed  down  at  her 
— she  fresh  and  innocent,  with  her  fluffy  golden  hair 

222 


VIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

and  sweet  blue  eyes  and  dimples  on  either  side  of  her 
pretty  mouth.  "  Damn  you !  "  he  exclaimed  through 
his  set  teeth.  "  You  want  to  ruin  me,  body  and  soul 
— you  vampire !  " 

Two  big  slow  tears  drenched  her  eyes.  "  Oh, 
Joe !  "  she  implored.  "  What  have  I  done !  Don't  be 
angry  with  me.  It  kills  me !  "  And  she  caught  her 
breath  like  a  child  trying  bravely  not  to  cry  and 
put  out  her  rosy  arms  toward  him,  her  round,  rosy 
shoulders  and  bosom  rising  and  falling  in  a  rhythmic 
swell. 

"  Don't  touch  me !  "  he  all  but  shouted.  "  That's 
part  of  your  infernal  game.  Oh,  you  think  I'm  a 
fool — and  so  I  am — so  I  am!  But  not  the  kind  you 
imagine.  It  hasn't  been  your  cleverness  that  has  made 
me  play  the  idiot,  but  my  own  weakness."  He  caught 
her  by  the  shoulders.  "What  is  it?"  he  cried  furi 
ously,  shaking  her.  "  What's  the  infernal  spell  I  get 
under  whenever  you  touch  me  ?  " 

"  You  love  me,"  she  pleaded,  "  as  I  love  you." 

"  Love!  "  he  jeered.  "  Well,  call  it  that— no  mat 
ter.  Those  tapestries  have  got  to  go  back — do  you 
hear?" 

"  Yes — you  needn't  shout,  dear.  Certainly  they'll 
go  back." 

"  You  say  '  certainly,'  but  you've  no  intention  of 
sending  them  back.  You  think  this'll  blow  over,  that 
you'll  wheedle  me  round  as  you  have  a  hundred  times. 
But  I  tell  you,  this  time,  what  I  say  goes !  " 

"  What's  the  trouble,  Joe  ?  You  were  never  like 
this  before." 

He  was  gnawing  at  his  thin  gray  mustache  and 
was  breathing  heavily.  "  When  I  married  you  I  was 
a  decent  sort  of  fellow.  I  had  a  sense  of  honor  and 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

a  disposition  to  be  honest.  You — you've  made  me  into 
a  bawd.  I  tell  you,  not  the  lowest  creature  that 
parades  the  streets  of  the  slums  is  viler  than  I.  That's 
what  you  and  love — love! — have  done  for  me.  My 
wife  and  love!  God,  woman,  what  you  have  made  me 
do  to  get  money  for  those  greedy  hands  of  yours! 
Now,  listen  to  me.  You  evidently  didn't  listen  last 
night  when  I  told  you  my  plans.  No  matter.  Here's 
the  point.  I'm  going  to  sell  out  once  more — going  to 
play  the  traitor  for  as  big  stakes  as  ever  tempted  a 
man.  Then,  I'll  make  the  career  I  once  dreamed  of 
making,  and  you  will  be  second  to  no  woman  in  the 
land.  But,  no  more  extravagance." 

"  I  always  knew  you'd  be  rich  and  famous,"  she 
cried,  clasping  her  hands  and  looking  the  radiant 
child. 

"  Famous,  but  not  rich.  I'm  not  playing  for 
money  this  time.  And  we're  not  going  to  have  much 
money  hereafter.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  We're  go 
ing  to  move  into  a  smaller  house;  all  your  junk  is 
to  be  sold,  and  what  little  money  it'll  bring  we'll  put 
by." 

She  seemed  to  be  freezing.  The  baby  look  died  out 
of  her  face.  Her  eyes  became  hard,  her  mouth  cruel. 
"  I  don't  understand,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  you  do,  madam,"  he  retorted.  "  You  need 
not  waste  time  in  scheming  or  in  working  your 
schemes.  I've  thought  it  all  out.  You  were  driving 
me  straight  to  ruin;  and,  when  you  got  me  there, 
if  I  hadn't  conveniently  died  or  blown  my  brains  out, 
you'd  have  divorced  me  and  fastened  on  some  one  else. 
I  think  that,  like  me,  you  used  to  be  decent.  You've 
been  led  on  and  on  until  you've  come  pretty  near  to 
losing  all  human  feeling.  Well,  it's  to  be  a  right 


FIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

about,  this  instant.  I'm  going  back — and  you've  got 
to  go  back  with  me." 

There  was  a  note  in  his  voice,  an  expression  in  his 
eyes  that  disquieted  her;  but  she  had  ruled  him  so 
long,  had  softened  him  from  the  appearance  of 
strength  into  plastic  weakness  so  often,  that  she  saw 
before  her  simply  a  harder  task  than  usual,  perhaps 
the  hardest  task  she  had  yet  had. 

"  I'll  be  very  busy  the  next  few  months,"  he  went 
on.  "  You  must  go  away — to  your  mother — or 
abroad — anywhere,  so  that  I  shan't  be  tempted." 

"  I  don't  want  to  leave  you !  "  she  cried.  "  I  want 
to  stay  and  help  you." 

His  smile  was  sardonic.  "  No !  You  shall  go.  I've 
an  offer  for  this  house,  as  it  stands.  In  fact,  I've  sold 
it." 

She  stared  wildly.     "  Joe !  "  she  screamed. 

"  I've  sold  it,"  he  repeated. 

"To  whom?" 

His  eyes  shifted,  and  he  flushed.  "  To  Trafford," 
he  replied,  with  a  sullenness,  a  shamefacedness  that 
would  not  have  escaped  her  had  she  not  been  inter 
nally  in  such  a  commotion  that  nothing  from  the  out 
side  could  impress  her. 

"  But  you  couldn't  get  a  tenth  what  the  things 
are  worth,  selling  that  way." 

"  I  got  a  good  price,"  said  he,  his  eyes  averted. 
"  Never  mind  what  it  was." 

"  Why,  the  Traffords  would  have  no  use  for  this 
house.  They've  got  a  palace." 

"  He  bought  it,"  said  Morris  doggedly. 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  He  bought  it ;  and  I  want  you  to  tell  everybody 
we  sold  at  a  loss — a  big  loss.  You  can  say  we're 

225 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

thinking  of  living  in  the  country.  Not  a  word  to  any 
one  that'd  indicate  there's  any  mystery  about  the 
sale."  This  without  looking  up. 

She  studied  his  face — the  careworn  but  still  hand 
some  features,  the  bad  lines  about  the  eyes  and  mouth, 
the  splendid  intellectuality  of  the  brow,  a  confused  but 
on  the  whole  disagreeable  report  upon  the  life  and 
character  within.  "  I  think  I  do  understand,"  she  said 
slowly.  Then,  like  a  vicious  jab,  "  At  least,  as  much 
as  I  want  to  understand." 

She  strolled  toward  the  door,  sliding  one  soft, 
jeweled  hand  reflectively  over  her  bare  shoulders.  She 
paused  before  a  statuette  and  inspected  it  carefully, 
her  hands  behind  her  back,  her  fingers  slowly  locking 
and  unlocking.  Presently  she  gave  a  queer  little  laugh 
and  said,  "  It  wasn't  the  house,  it  was  you  Trafford 
bought." 

A  pause,  then  he :  "  He  thinks  so." 

Again  a  pause,  she  smiling  softly  up  at  the  statu 
ette.  Without  facing  him  she  said,  "  I  must  have  my 
share,  Joe." 

He  did  not  answer. 

She  waited  a  few  minutes,  repeated,  "  /  must  have 
my  share." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

A  pause;  then,  "Are  you  coming  up  to  bed?" 

"  I  shall  sleep  here." 

She  had  passively  despised  him,  whenever  she  had 
thought  about  him  at  all  in  those  years  of  his  sub 
servience  to  her.  For  the  first  time  she  was  looking 
at  him  with  a  feeling  akin  to  respect. 

"  Good  night,"  she  murmured  sweetly. 

"  Good  night,"  curtly  from  him. 

The  watching  servants  were  astonished  at  her  ex- 
226 


FIOLETTE'S    TAPESTRIES 

pression  of  buoyant  good  humor,  were  astounded  when 
she  said  with  careless  cheerfulness  to  the  butler, 
"  Thomas,  telephone  Violette  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning  to  come  for  those  tapestries  he  brought  to 
day.  Tell  him  I'll  call  and  explain." 


227 


XVIII 

ARMSTRONG    PROPOSES 

ARMSTRONG  lingered  in  the  entrance  to  the  apart 
ment  house  where  Neva  lived,  dejection  and  irritation 
plain  upon  his  features.  At  no  time  since  he  met  her 
at  Trafford's  had  he  so  longed  to  see  her;  and  the 
elevator  boy  had  just  told  him  she  was  out.  The  boy's 
manner  was  convincing,  but  Armstrong  was  supersen- 
sitive  about  Neva. 

She  had  received  him  often,  and  was  always 
friendly ;  but  always  with  a  reserve,  the  more  disquiet 
ing  for  its  elusiveness.  And  whenever  he  tried  to  see 
her  and  failed,  he  suspected  her  of  being  unwilling  to 
admit  him.  Sometimes  the  suspicion  took  the  form 
of  a  belief  it  was  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  painter  which 
she  would  not  let  him  interrupt.  Again,  he  feared  she 
had  decided  not  to  admit  him  any  more.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  say  which  made  him  the  gloomier — the 
feeling  that  he  was,  at  best,  a  distant  second,  or  the 
feeling  that  he  was  not  placed  at  all.  Never  before 
in  his  relation  with  any  human  being,  man  or  woman, 
had  he  been  so  exasperatingly  at  a  disadvantage  as 
with  her.  The  fact  that  they  had  been  married,  which 
apparently  ought  to  have  made  it  impossible  for  her 
to  maintain  any  barrier  of  reserve  against  him,  once 
she  had  accepted  him  as  a  friend,  was  somehow  just 
the  circumstance  that  prevented  him  from  making  any 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

progress  whatever  with  her.  And  this  was  highly  ex 
asperating  to  a  man  of  his  instinct  and  passion  and 
ability  for  conquest  and  dominion  over  all  about  him, 
men  as  well  as  women. 

"  I'm  making  a  fool  of  myself.  I'm  letting  her 
make  a  fool  of  me,"  he  thought  angrily,  as  he  stood 
in  the  entrance.  "  I'll  not  come  again."  But  he  had 
made  this  same  decision  each  time  he  was  met  with 
"  Not  at  home,"  and  had  nevertheless  reappeared  at 
her  door  after  a  few  weeks  of  self-denial.  So,  he 
mocked  himself  even  as  he  was  bravely  resolving.  He 
gazed  up  and  down  the  street.  His  face  brightened. 
Far  down  the  long  block,  toward  Fifth  Avenue,  he  saw 
a  slim,  singularly  narrow  figure,  thin  yet  nowhere  an 
gular  ;  beautiful  shoulders  and  bust,  narrow  hips ;  a 
fascinating  simple  dress  of  brown,  a  sable  stole  and 
muff,  a  graceful  brown  hat  with  three  plumes.  "  Dis 
tinguished  "  was  the  word  that  seemed  to  him  to  de 
scribe  what  he  could  see,  thus  far.  As  she  drew  near, 
he  noted  how  her  clear  skin,  her  eyes,  her  hair  all  had 
the  sheen  that  proclaims  health  and  vivid  life.  "  But 
she  would  never  have  looked  like  this,  or  have  been 
what  she  is,  if  she  had  not  got  rid  of  me,"  he  said 
to  himself  by  way  of  consolation. 

"  Won't  you  take  a  walk  ?  "  he  asked,  when  they 
met  half  way  between  the  two  avenues.  The  friendli 
ness  of  her  greeting  dispelled  his  ill  humor ;  sometimes 
that  same  mere  friendliness  was  the  cause  of  a  sting 
ing  irritation. 

"  Come  back  with  me,"  she  replied.  "  I'm  always 
in  at  this  time.  Besides,  to-day  I  have  an  engagement 
— no,  not  just  yet — not  until  Boris  comes.  Then,  he 
and  I  are  going  out." 

"  Oh— Raphael !     Always  Raphael." 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

66  Almost  always,"  said  she.  "  Almost  every  day — 
often  twice  a  day,  sometimes  three  times  a  day." 

His  dealings  with  women  had  been  in  disregard  and 
disdain  of  their  "  feminine  "  methods ;  but  he  did  know 
the  men  who  use  that  same  indirection  to  which  women 
are  compelled  because  nature  and  the  human  societies 
modeled  upon  its  savage  laws  decree  that  woman  shall 
deal  with  men  in  the  main  through  their  passions.  He, 
therefore,  suspected  that  Neva's  frank  declaration  was 
not  without  intent  to  incite.  But,  to  suspect  woman's 
motive  rarely  helps  man;  in  his  relations  with  her  he 
is  dominated  by  a  force  more  powerful  than  reason, 
a  force  which  compels  him  to  acts  of  which  his  reason, 
though  conscious  and  watchful,  is  a  helpless  spectator. 
Armstrong's  feeling  that  Neva  was  not  unwilling  to 
give  herself  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  jealous  of  Ra 
phael  did  not  help  him  toward  the  self-control  neces 
sary  to  disappoint  her.  Silent  before  his  rising  storm, 
he  accompanied  her  to  the  studio.  Alone  with  her 
there,  he  said  abruptly: 

"  Do  you  think  any  human  being  could  fall  in  love 
with  me  ?  " 

She  examined  him  as  if  impartially  balancing 
merits  and  demerits.  "Why  not?"  she  finally  said. 

"  I've  sometimes  thought  there  was  a  hardness  in 
me  that  repels." 

"  Perhaps  you're  right,"  she  admitted.  "  You'll 
probably  never  know  until  you  yourself  fall  in  love." 

"What  is  your  objection  to  me?" 

"Mine?"  She  seemed  to  reflect  before  answer 
ing.  "  The  principal  one,  I  think,  is  your  tyranny. 
You  crush  out  every  individuality  in  your  neighbor 
hood.  You  seem  to  want  a  monopoly  of  the  light 
and  air." 

230 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

"  Was  that  what  used  to  make  you  so  silent  and 
shut  up  in  yourself?  " 

She  nodded.  "  I  simply  couldn't  begin  to  grow. 
You  wouldn't  have  it." 

"But  now?"  he  said. 

She  smiled  absently.  "  It  often  amuses  me  to  see 
how  it  irritates  you  that  you  can't — crowd  me.  You 
do  so  firmly  believe  that  a  woman  has  no  right  to  in 
dividuality." 

He  was  not  really  listening.  He  was  absorbed  in 
watching  her  slowly  take  off  her  long  gloves ;  as  her 
white  forearms,  her  small  wrists,  her  hands,  emerged 
little  by  little,  his  blood  burned  with  an  exhilaration 
like  the  sting  of  a  sharp  wind  upon  a  healthy 
skin 

"  Neva,  will  you  marry  me?  " 

So  far  as  he  could  see,  she  had  not  heard.  She 
kept  on  at  the  gloves  until  they  were  off,  were  lying 
in  her  lap.  She  began  to  remove  her  hat  pins ;  her 
arms,  bare  to  the  elbows,  were  at  their  best  in  that 
position. 

"  A  year  ago,  two  years  ago,"  he  went  on,  "  I 
thought  we  had  never  been  married.  I  know  now  that 
we  have  never  been  unmarried." 

"  And  when  did  you  make  that  interesting  discov 
ery?  "  inquired  she,  still  apparently  giving  her  hat  her 
attention. 

"  When  I  saw  how  I  felt  toward  Raphael.  You 
think  I  am  jealous  of  him.  But  it  is  not  jealousy.  I 
know  you  couldn't  fall  in  love  with  a  fellow  that  rigs 
himself  out  like  a  peacock." 

The  delicate  line  of  Neva's  eyebrows  lifted.  "  Boris 
dresses  to  suit  himself,"  said  she.  "  I  never  think  of 
it — nor,  I  fancy,  does  he." 

231 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Besides,"  continued  Armstrong,  "  you  could  no 
more  fall  in  love  with  him  than  you  could  at  any  other 
place  step  over  the  line  between  a  nice  woman  and  the 
other  kind." 

"  Really ! " 

"  Yes — really !  "  he  retorted,  showing  as  much  an 
ger  as  he  dared.  "  My  feeling  about  Raphael  is  that 
he  has  no  right  to  hang  about  another  man's  wife  as 
he  does.  And  you  feel  the  same  way." 

With  graceful,  sure  fingers  she  was  arranging  her 
hair  where  it  had  been  pressed  down  by  her  hat. 
"  That  is  amusing,"  she  said  tranquilly.  "  You  must 
either  change  your  idea  of  what  '  nice  woman  '  means 
or  change  your  idea  of  me.  I  haven't  the  slightest 
sense  of  having  been  married  to  you." 

"  Impossible !  "  he  maintained. 

"  I  know  why  you  say  that — why  men  think  that. 
But  I  assure  you,  my  friend,  I  have  no  more  the  feel 
ing  that  I  am  married  than  that  I  am  still  sick  be 
cause  I  had  a  severe  illness  once." 

His  mind  had  been  much  occupied  by  memories  of 
their  married  days ;  their  dead  child  so  long,  so  com 
pletely  forgotten  by  him  and  never  thought  of  as 
a  tie  between  him  and  his  wife,  had  suddenly 
become  a  thing  of  vividness,  the  solemn  and  eternal 
sealing  of  its  mother  to  him.  Her  calm  repudiation  of 
him  and  his  rights  now  seemed  to  him  as  unwomanly 
as  would  have  seemed  any  attempt  on  her  part  to  claim 
him,  had  he  not  begun  to  care  for  her. 

"  Don't  say  those  things,"  he  protested  angrily. 
"  You  don't  mean  them,  and  they  sound  horrible." 

She  looked  at  him  satirically.  "You  men!"  she 
mocked.  "  You  men,  with  your  coarse,  narrow  ideas 
of  us  women  that  encourage  all  that  is  least  self-re- 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

specting  in  us!  I  do  not  attach  the  same  importance 
to  the  physical  side  of  myself  that  you  do.  I  try 
to  flatter  myself  there  is  more  to  me  than  merely  my 
sex.  I  admit,  nature  intended  only  that.  But  we  are 
trying  to  improve  on  nature." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  you  have  made  me  ashamed 
because  I  am  still  in  a  state  of  nature,"  he  rejoined. 
"  But  you  haven't.  No  matter  what  any  man  may  pre 
tend,  he  will  care  for  you  in  the  natural  way  as  long 
as  you  look  as  you  do."  And  his  glance  swept  her  in 
bold  admiration.  "  As  I  said  a  while  ago,  I'm  not 
jealous  of  Raphael.  I'm  jealous  of  all  men.  Some 
times  I  get  to  thinking  about  you — that  you  are  some 
where — with  some  man,  several  men — their  heads  full 
of  the  ideas  that  steam  in  my  head  whenever  I  look  at 
you — and  I  walk  the  floor  and  grind  my  teeth  in 
fury." 

The  color  was  in  her  cheeks,  though  her  eyes  were 
mocking.  "  Go  on,"  she  said.  "  This  is  interesting." 

"  Yes — it  must  be  interesting,  and  amusing,  in  view 
of  the  way  I  used  to  act.  But  that  was  your  fault. 
You  hid  yourself  from  me  then.  You  cheated  me. 
You  let  me  make  a  fool  of  myself,  and  throw  away  the 
best  there  was  in  my  life." 

"  You  forget  your  career,"  said  she.  "  You  aren't 
a  human  being.  You  are  a  career." 

"  I  suppose  you — a  woman — would  prefer  an  ob 
scurity,  a  nobody,  provided  he  were  a  sentimental, 
Harry-hug-the-hearth." 

"  I  think  so,"  she  said.  "  A  nobody  with  a  heart 
rather  than  the  greatest  somebody  on  earth  without 
one.  Heart  is  so  much  the  most  important  thing  in 
the  world.  You'll  find  that  out  some  day,  when  you're 
not  so  strong  and  self-reliant  and  successful." 
16  233 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  I  have  found  it  out,"  replied  he.  "  And  that  is 
why  I  ask  you  to  marry  me." 

"  Ask  me  to  become  an  incident  in  your  career." 

"  No.  To  become  joint,  equal  partner  in  our  ca 
reer." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  You  couldn't,  wouldn't  have 
a  partner,  male  or  female — not  yet.  Besides  it  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  interest  myself  in  getting  rich 
or  taking  care  of  riches  or  distributing  them  among 
a  crowd  of  sycophants." 

"  I'm  not  getting  rich,"  replied  he.  "  I'm  making 
a  good  salary,  and  spending  it  almost  all.  But  I'm 
not  making  much,  outside." 

"  I  had  heard  otherwise.  They  tell  me  your  sort 
of  business  is  about  the  best  '  graft ' — isn't  that  the 
word? — downtown,  and  that  you  are  where  you  can  get 
as  much  as  you  care  to  carry  away." 

"  Yes.     I  could." 

"But  you  don't?     I  knew  it!" 

Her  belief  in  his  honesty  made  him  uncomfortable. 
"  I  didn't  say  I  was  different  from  the  others — really 
different,"  he  said  hesitatingly.  That  very  morning 
he  had  been  forced  to  listen  to  a  long  series  of  reports 
on  complaints  of  O.  A.  D.  policy  holders — how  some 
had  been  swindled  by  false  promises  of  agents  whom  he 
must  shield;  how  others  had  been  cheated  on  lapsed 
or  surrendered  policies ;  how,  in  a  score  of  sly  ways, 
the  "  gang  "  in  control  were  stealing  from  their  wards, 
their  trusting  and  helpless  victims.  "  I  can't,  and 
don't  purpose  to,  deny,"  he  went  on  to  her,  "  that  I'm 
part  of  the  system  of  inducing  some  other  fellow  to 
sow,  and  then  reaping  his  harvest,  or  most  of  it.  I 
don't  put  it  in  my  own  barn,  but  I  do  help  at  the 
reaping.  Oh,  everything's  perfectly  proper  and  re- 

234 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

spectable — at  least,  on  the  surface.  But — well,  some 
times  I  get  desperately  sick  of  it  all.  Just  now,  I'm 
in  that  mood;  it  brought  me  here  to-day.  There's  a 
row  on  down  there,  and  it's  plot  and  counterplot,  move 
and  check,  all  very  exciting,  but  I — hate  it !  Nobody's 
to  blame.  It's  simply  a  system  that's  grown  up.  And 
if  one  plays  the  game,  why,  he's  got  to  conform  to 
the  rules." 

"  If  one  plays  the  game." 

"  What's  a  man  to  do  ?  Go  back  to  the  farm  and 
become  a  slave  to  a  railroad  company  or  a  mortgage? 
We  can't  all  be  painters." 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly  with  a  sudden  narrow 
ing  of  the  eyelids  that  seemed  to  concentrate  her  gaze 
like  a  burning  glass.  "  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  said 
she. 

"  If  you  had  to  be  either  a  sheep  or  a  shearer, 
which  would  you  choose?  " 

"Is  that  how  it  is?" 

"  Pretty  nearly,"  was  his  gloomy  reply. 

A  long  silence,  he  staring  at  the  floor,  she  watching 
him.  At  last  she  said,  "  Haven't  they — got — some 
thing  on  you — something  they  can  use  against  you  ?  " 

He  startled.  "Where  did  you  hear  that?  What 
did  you  hear  ?  "  he  demanded,  with  an  astonished  look 
at  her. 

"  I  was  lunching  to-day  with  some  people  who 
know  we  used  to  be  married,  but  they  don't  know  we're 
good  friends.  They  supposed  I'd  be  glad  to  hear  of 
any  misfortune  to  you.  And  they  said  a  mine  was 
going  to  blow  up  under  you,  and  that  you'd  disappear 
and  never  be  heard  of  again." 

"  You  can't  tell  me  who  told  you  ?  " 

"  No  —  unless  it's  absolutely  necessary.  It  has 
235 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

something  to  do  with  an  investigating  committee. 
You're  to  be  called  quite  suddenly  and  something  is 
to  come  out — something  you  did  that  will  look  bad — " 
She  came  to  a  full  stop. 

His  face  cleared.  "  Oh — I  know  about  that.  I've 
arranged  for  it."  His  mind  was  free  to  consider  her 
manner.  "  And  you  assumed  I  was  guilty  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know,"  she  replied.  "  I  was  sure  you 
were  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  them.  If  you  hadn't 
come  to-day,  I'd  have  sent  you  warning." 

His  eyes  lighted ;  he  smiled  triumphantly.  "  I  told 
you !  "  he  cried.  "  You  see,  you  still  feel  that  we're 
married,  that  our  interests  are  the  same." 

She  colored,  but  he  could  not  be  sure  whether  her 
irritation  was  against  herself  or  against  him.  "  You 
are  very  confident  of  yourself — and  of  me,"  said  she 
ironically,  and  her  eyes  were  laughing  at  him.  "  And 
this  is  the  man,"  she  mocked,  "  who  less  than  three  brief 
years  ago  was  so  eager  to  be  rid  of  me ! " 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  with  a  brave  and  not  unsuc 
cessful  effort  at  brazening  out  what  could  not  be  denied 
or  explained  away.  "  But  you  were  not  the  same  per 
son  then  that  you  are  now." 

"  And  whose  fault  was  that  ?  "  retorted  she.  "  You 
married  me  when  I  was  a  mere  child.  You  could  have 
made  of  me  what  you  pleased.  Instead,  you " 

"  I  admit  it  all,"  he  interrupted.  "  I  married  you 
— from  a  base  motive,  though  I  can  plead  that  I 
glamoured  it  over  to  myself.  Still,  I  owed  it  to  myself 
and  to  you  to  have  done  my  level  best  with  and  for 
you.  And  I  shirked  and  skulked." 

She  did  not  show  the  appreciation  of  this  abject- 
ness  which  he  had,  perhaps  unconsciously,  expected. 
Instead,  she  laughed  satirically,  but  with  entire  good 

236 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

humor.  "  How  clever  you  think  yourself,  Horace," 
said  she,  "  and  how  stupid  you  think  me.  That's  a 
very  old  trick,  to  try  to  make  a  crime  into  a  virtue 
by  confessing  it." 

He  hung  his  head,  convicted.  "  At  least,"  he  said 
humbly,  "  I  love  you  now.  If  you  will  give  me  an 
other  chance " 

"  You  had  as  good  a  chance  as  a  man  could  ask," 
she  reminded  him,  without  the  anger  that  would  have 
made  him  feel  sure  of  her.  "  How  you  used  to  ex 
asperate  me!  You  assumed  I  had  neither  intelligence 
nor  feeling.  You  were  so  selfish,  so  self -centered.  I 
don't  see  how  you  can  hope  to  be  trusted,  even  as  a 
friend.  You  shake  me  off ;  you  see  me  again ;  find  I 
have  been  somewhat  improved  by  a  stay  in  New  York; 
find  I  am  not  wholly  unattractive  to  others.  Your 
jealousy  is  roused.  No,  please  don't  protest.  You 
see,  I  understand  you  perfectly." 

"  I  deserve  it,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  think  a  woman  would  be  showing  even 
the  small  good  sense  you  concede  women,  if  she  were 
to  trust  a  man  whose  interest  in  her  was  based  upon 
jealousy  of  another  man?" 

"I'm  not  jealous  of  that  damned,  scented  for 
eigner,  with  his  rings  and  his  jeweled  canes  and  his 
hand-kissing.  I  know  it  must  make  your  honest  Ameri 
can  flesh  creep  to  have  him  touch  his  lips  to  the  back 
of  your  hand.'* 

Neva  blazed  at  him.  "  How  dare  you !  "  she  cried, 
rising  in  her  wrath.  "  How  dare  you  stand  in  my 
house,  in  my  presence,  and  insult  thus  the  best  friend 
I  ever  had — the  only  friend !  " 

"  Friend ! "  sneered  Armstrong.  "  I  know  all 
about  the  sort  of  friendship  that  rake  is  capable  of." 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

Neva  was  facing  him  with  a  look  that  blanched 
his  face.  "  You  will  withdraw  those  insults  to  Boris," 
she  said,  in  that  low,  even  voice  which  is  wrath's  dead 
liest  form  of  expression,  "  and  you  will  apologize  to 
me,  or  you  will  leave  here,  never  to  return." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  responded  instantly.  "  I 
am  ashamed  of  having  said  those  things.  I — I  .  .  . 
It  was  jealousy.  I  love  you,  and  I  can't  bear  to  think 
of  the  possibility  of  rivalry." 

"  You  are  swift  with  apologies.  In  the  future, 
be  less  swift  with  impertinence  and  insult,"  she  an 
swered,  showing  in  manner,  as  well,  that  she  was  far 
from  mollified.  "  As  between  Boris's  friendship  and 
professions  of  love  from  a  man  who  only  a  little  while 
ago  neglected  and  abandoned  and  forgot  me " 

"  For  God's  sake,  Neva,"  he  pleaded.  "  I've  been 
paying  for  that.  And  now  that  you  have  shown  me 
how  little  hope  there  is  for  me,  I  shall  continue  to 
suffer.  Be  a  little  merciful!" 

His  agitation,  where  usually  there  was  absolute 
self-control,  convinced  and  silenced  her.  Presently  he 
said,  "  Will  you  be  friends  again — if  I'll  behave  my 
self?  " 

She  nodded  with  her  humorous  smile  and  flash  of 
the  eyes.  "  If  you  behave  yourself,"  replied  she. 
"  We  were  talking  of — of  Fosdick,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Fosdick ! "  He  made  a  gesture  of  disgust. 
"  That  name !  I  never  hear  it  or  think  of  it  except 
in  connection  with  something  repulsive.  It's  always 
like  a  whiff  from  a  sewer." 

"  And  you  were  about  to  marry  his  daughter !  " 
said  she,  with  a  glance  of  raillery. 

He  reddened;  anything  that  was  past  for  him  was 
so  completely  shut  out  and  forgotten  that,  until  she 

238 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

reminded  him,  the  sentimental  episode  with  Amy  was 
as  if  it  had  not  been.  "Where  did  you  hear  that?" 
he  asked,  his  guilty  eyes  lowering ;  for  he  felt  she 
must  have  suspected  why  he  had  thought  of  marry 
ing  Amy. 

"  Everybody  was  talking  about  it  when  I  came  to 
New  York." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  Well,"  he  finally 
continued,  "  she  and  I  are  not  even  friends."  Into 
his  eyes  came  the  steely,  ruthless  look.  "  Within  a 
week  I'm  going  to  destroy  Josiah  Fosdick."  Then,  in 
comment  on  her  swiftly  changing  expression,  "  I  see 
you  don't  like  that." 

"  No,"  she  replied  bluntly. 

"  I'm  going  to  do  a  public  service,"  said  he,  ab 
solutely  unconscious  of  the  real  reason  why  his  threat 
so  jarred  upon  her.  "  I  ought  to  have  a  vote  of 
thanks." 

She  could  not  tell  him  that  it  was  not  his  con 
demnation  of  Josiah  but  his  merciless  casting  out  of 
his  friendship  with  Amy  that  revolted  and  angered  and 
saddened  her.  If  she  did  tell  him,  he,  so  self-absorbed 
and  so  bent  upon  his  own  inflexible  purposes  that  he 
was  quite  blind  to  his  own  brutality,  would  merely 
think  her  jealous.  Besides,  she  began  to  feel  that  her 
real  ground  for  anger  against  him  ought  to  be  Josiah's 
fate,  even  if  her  femininity  made  the  personal  reason 
the  stronger.  She  accordingly  said,  "  You  just  got 
through  telling  me  it  was  a  system,  and  not  any  one 
man's  fault." 

Armstrong  dismissed  that  with  a  shrug.  "  I'm  in 
his  way,  he's  in  mine.  One  or  the  other  has  to  go 
down.  I'm  seeing  to  it  that  it's  not  I."  Then,  an 
gered  by  her  expression,  and  by  the  sense  of  accusing 

239 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

himself  in  making  what  sounded  like  excuse,  he  cried, 
"  Say  it !  You  despise  me !  " 

"  It  isn't  a  judgment,"  she  answered;  "  it's  a  feel 
ing." 

"  But  you  don't  know  what  the  man  has  done." 

"  One  should  not  ask  himself,  What  has  the  other 
man  done?  but,  What  will  my  self-respect  let  me 
do?" 

He  ignored  this.  "  Let  me  tell  you,"  he  said,  with 
a  return  of  the  imperious  manner  that  was  second  na 
ture  to  him  nowadays.  "  This  man  brought  me  to  New 
York  because  he  found  I  knew  how  to  manage  the 
agents  so  that  they  would  lure  in  the  most  suckers — 
that's  the  only  word  for  it.  When  I  came,  I  believed 
the  O.  A.  D.  was  a  big  philanthropic  institution — yes, 
I  did,  really !  Of  course  I  knew  men  made  money  out 
of  it.  I  was  making  money  out  of  it,  myself.  But  I 
thought  that,  in  the  main,  the  object  was  to  give  peo 
ple  a  chance  to  provide  against  old  age  and  death." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  she  said.  "  You  used  to  talk 
about  what  a  grand  thing  it  was." 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  we  do  give  'em  some  return 
for  their  money — if  they  aren't  careless  and  don't  give 
us  a  chance  to  cheat  them  out  of  part  or  all  of  it, 
under  the  laws  we've  been  fixing  up  against  them.  But 
we  never  give  anything  like  what's  their  due.  I  found 
I  was  little  more  than  a  puller-in  for  a  den  of  re 
spectable  thieves — that  life  insurance  is  simply  an 
other  of  the  devices  of  these  oily  rascals  here  in  New 
York — like  all  their  big  stock  companies  and  bonding 
schemes  and  the  rest  of  it — a  trick  to  get  hold  of 
money  and  use  it  for  their  own  benefit.  Ours  is  the 
vilest  trick  of  all,  though — it  seems  to  me.  For  we 
play  on  people's  heart  strings,  while  the  other  swindles 

240 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

appeal  chiefly  to  cupidity."  He  took  a  magazine  from 
the  table.  "  Look  here !  "  He  pointed  to  an  illus 
trated  advertisement.  "  It's  the  '  ad  '  of  one  of  our 
rivals — same  business  as  ours.  See  the  widow  with  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  and  the  three  little 
children  clinging  to  her;  see  the  heap  of  furniture  on 
the  sidewalk — that  means  they've  ejected  her  for  not 
paying  the  rent.  And  the  type  says,  '  This  wouldn't 
have  happened  if  the  father  had  been  insured  in  the 
Universal.'  Clever,  isn't  it?  Well,  the  men  back  of 
that  company  and  those  back  of  ours  and,  worst  of  all, 
Trafford's  infamous  gang,  all  get  rich  by  stealing 
from  poor  old  people,  from  widows  and  orphans. 
That  is  Fosdick's  business — robbing  dead  bodies,  pick 
ing  the  pockets  of  calico  mourning  dresses." 

It  gave  him  relief  and  a  sense  of  doing  penance, 
to  utter  these  truths  about  himself  and  his  associates 
that  had  been  rankling  in  him.  As  he  believed  she  knew 
nothing  of  business  and  as  he  thought  her  sex  did  not 
reason  but  only  felt,  he  assumed  she  would  accept  his 
own  lenient  view  of  his  personal  part  in  the  infamy, 
of  his  own  deviations  from  the  "  ideal "  standards. 
Her  expression  disquieted  him.  "  The  most  respect 
able  people  in  the  country  are  in  it,  in  some  branch 
of  it,"  he  hastened  to  explain,  without  admitting  to 
himself  that  he  was  explaining.  "  You  must  read  the 
list  of  our  directors." 

Her  silence  alarmed  him.  He  wished  he  had  not 
been  so  frank.  Recalling  his  words  he  was  appalled  by 
their  brutality ;  he  could  not  deny  to  himself  that  they 
stated  the  truth,  and  he  wondered  that  he  had  not 
seen  that  truth  in  its  full  repulsiveness  until  now. 
"  Of  course,  they  don't  look  at  it  that  way,"  he  went 
on.  "  A  man  can  get  his  conscience  to  applaud  almost 

241 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

anything  he's  making  money  out  of — the  more  money, 
the  easier." 

"  Then  they  do  these  things  quite  openly  ?  "  said 
Neva,  in  amazement. 

"  Openly  ?  Certainly  not,"  replied  Armstrong, 
with  a  slight  smile  at  her  innocence. 

"  If  they  don't  do  them  openly,  they  know  just 
what  they're  about." 

"  No,"  he  said,  imperious  and  impatient.  "  You 
don't  understand  human  nature.  You  don't  appreciate 
how  men  delude  themselves." 

His  tone,  its  reminder  of  his  intolerance  of  any 
independence  of  thought  in  a  woman,  or  in  anyone 
around  him  for  that  matter,  brought  the  color  to  her 
cheeks.  "  A  man  who  does  wrong,  but  thinks  he  is 
doing  right,  is  not  ashamed,"  she  answered.  "  If  he 
shuffles  and  conceals,  you  may  be  sure  he  does  not  de 
ceive  himself,  no  matter  how  completely  his  pretense 
deceives  you." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  answer  to  this.  It  made 
ridiculous  nonsense  of  the  familiar  excuse  for  reputable 
rascality,  the  excuse  he  had  heard  a  thousand  times, 
and  had  accepted  without  question.  But  it  also  some 
how  seemed  a  home  thrust  through  his  own  armor. 
With  anger  that  was  what  he  would  have  called  femi 
nine  in  its  unreasonableness,  he  demanded,  "  Then  you 
don't  think  I  have  the  right  to  tear  Fosdick  down  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  going  to  tear  them  all  down,  and 
yourself,  too,"  was  her  answer,  slowly  spoken,  but 
firm. 

He  laughed  ironically.     "  That's  practical !  " 

"  Does  a  thing  have  to  be  dishonorable  and  dis 
honest,  to  be  practical?" 

"  From  your   standpoint,   yes,"   he   replied.      "  At 


ARMSTRONG   PROPOSES 

this  very  moment  Fosdick  is  chuckling  over  the  scheme 
he  thinks  will  surely  disgrace  me  forever!  And  you 
are  urging  me  to  let  him  disgrace  me.  Is  that  what 
you  call  friendship  ?  Is  that  your  idea  of  '  heart '  ?  " 

She  flushed,  but  rejoined  undaunted,  "You  can 
juggle  with  your  conscience  all  you  please,  Horace — 
just  like  the  other  men  downtown.  But  you  know  the 
truth,  in  the  bottom  of  your  heart,  just  as  they  do. 
And  if  you  rise  by  the  way  you've  planned,  you  know 
that,  when  you've  risen,  you'll  do  just  as  he  was 
doing." 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  your  test  of  me  is  whether  I'll 
let  you  beg  off  this  old  buzzard,  Fosdick." 

She  made  a  gesture  of  denial  and  appeal.  "  On  the 
contrary,  I'd  despise  a  man  who  did  for  a  woman  what 
he  wouldn't  do  for  his  own  self-respect."  She  was 
pale,  but  all  the  will  in  her  character  was  showing  it 
self  in  her  face.  "  What  is  Fosdick  to  me  ?  Now  that 
you've  told  me  about  him,  I  think  it's  frightful  to  send 
men  to  jail  for  stealing  bread,  and  leave  such  a  crea 
ture  at  large.  But — as  to  you — "  Her  bosom  was 
rising  and  falling  swiftly — "  as  to  you,  I'm  not  indif 
ferent.  You  have  stood  for  strength  and  courage,  for 
pride — for  manliness.  I  thought  you  hard  and  cold 
— but  brave — really  brave — too  brave  to  steal,  at  least 
from  the  helpless,  or  to  assassinate  even  an  assassin. 
Now,  I  see  that  you've  changed.  Your  ambition  is 
dragging  you  down,  as  ambition  always  does.  And 
what  an  ambition!  To  be  the  best,  the  most  success 
ful,  at  cheating  the  helpless,  at  robbing  the  dead !  " 

As  she  spoke,  his  expression  of  anger  faded.  When 
she  ended,  with  unsteady  voice  and  fighting  back  the 
tears,  he  did  not  attempt  to  reply.  He  had  made  of 
his  face  an  impassive  mask.  They  were  still  silent,  he 

243 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

standing  at  the  window,  she  sitting  and  gazing  into 
the  fire,  when  Molly  entered  to  announce  Raphael.  He 
threw  his  coat  over  his  arm,  took  up  his  hat.  She 
searched  his  face  for  some  indication  of  his  thoughts, 
but  could  find  none.  He  simply  said,  "  I'll  think  it 
over." 


244 


XIX 

TWO    TELEPHONE    TALKS 

As  Armstrong,  at  Fosdick's  house,  was  waiting  in 
a  small  reception  room  just  off  the  front  hall,  he 
heard  the  old  man  on  the  stairs,  storming  as  he  de 
scended.  "  It's  a  conspiracy,"  he  was  shouting.  "  You 
all  want  to  kill  me.  You've  heard  the  doctor  say  I'll 
die  if  I  don't  stop  driving,  and  walk.  Yet,  there's  that 
damned  carriage  always  at  the  door.  I  can't  step  out 
that  it  isn't  waiting  for  me,  and  you  know  I  can't  re 
sist  if  I  see  it.  It's  murder,  that's  what  it  is." 

"  Shall  I  send  the  carriage  away,  sir?  "  Armstrong 
heard  the  butler  say. 

"  No !  "  cried  Fosdick,  rapping  the  floor  with  his 
cane.  "  No !  You  know  I  won't  send  it  away.  I've 
got  to  get  some  air,  and  it  seems  to  me  I  can't 
walk." 

By  this  time  he  was  at  the  door  of  the  reception 
room.  "  Good  morning,  Armstrong,"  he  said  with 
surly  politeness.  "  I'm  sick  to-day.  I  suppose  you 
heard  me  talking  to  this  butler  here.  I  tell  you,  things 
to  drive  in  are  the  ruin  of  the  prosperous  classes.  Sell 
that  damn  motor  of  yours.  Never  take  a  cab,  if  you 
can  help  it.  They're  killing  me  with  that  carriage 
of  mine.  Yes — and  there's  that  infernal  cook — chef, 
as  they  call  him.  He's  trying  to  earn  his  salary,  and 
he's  killing  me  doing  it.  I  eat  the  poison  stuff — I  can't 

Ma 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

get  anything  else.  No  wonder  I  have  indigestion  and 
gout.  No  wonder  my  head  feels  as  if  it  was  on  fire 
every  morning.  And  my  temper — I  used  to  have  a 
good  disposition.  I'm  getting  to  be  a  devil.  It's  a 
conspiracy  to  murder  me."  There  Fosdick  noted 
Armstrong's  expression.  He  dropped  his  private  woes 
abruptly  and  said,  with  his  wonted  suavity,  "  But 
what  can  I  do  for  you  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  ask  you  to  do  an  act  of  justice,"  re 
plied  the  Westerner,  looking  even  huger  and  more 
powerful  than  usual,  in  contrast  with  the  other,  whom 
age  and  self-indulgence  were  rapidly  shriveling. 

Armstrong's  calm  was  aggressive,  would  better 
have  become  a  dictator  than  a  suitor.  It  was  highly 
offensive  to  Fosdick,  who  was  rapidly  reaching  the 
state  of  mind  in  which  obsequiousness  alone  is  tolerable 
and  manliness  seems  insolence.  But  he  reined  in  his 
temper  and  said,  smoothly  enough,  "  You  can  always 
count  on  me  to  do  justice." 

"  I  want  you  to  give  me  a  letter,  explaining  that 
those  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  were 
drawn  by  me  and  paid  over,  at  your  order." 

Fosdick  stared  blankly  at  him.  "  What  three  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars?" 

Armstrong's  big  hands  clenched  into  fists  and  he 
set  his  teeth  together  sharply.  Each  man  looked  the 
other  full  in  the  eyes.  Armstrong  said,  "Will  you 
give  me  the  letter  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  replied 
Fosdick  steadily.  "And  don't  explain.  I  can't  talk 
business  to-day." 

"  I've  come  to  you,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  continued  Arm 
strong,  "  not  on  my  own  account,  but  on  yours.  I 
ask  you  to  give  me  the  letter,  because,  if  you  do  not, 

£46 


TWO   TELEPHONE   TALKS 

the  consequences  will  be  unfortunate — not  for  me,  but 
for  you." 

"  My  dear  Armstrong,"  said  Fosdick,  with  wheed 
ling  familiarity  of  elder  to  younger,  "  I  don't  know 
what  you're  talking  about,  and  I  don't  want  to  know. 
Look  at  me,  and  spare  me.  Come  for  a  drive.  I'll 
set  you  down  anywhere  you  say.  Don't  be  foolish, 
young  man.  Don't  use  language  to  me  that  suggests 
threats." 

"That  is  your  final  answer?  Is  it  quite  useless  to 
discuss  the  matter  with  you?" 

"  I'm  too  sick  to  wrangle  with  business  to-day." 

"  Then  you  refuse  to  give  me  the  letter  ?  " 

"  If  my  doctor  knew  I  had  let  anybody  mention 
business  to  me,  he'd  desert  me." 

Without  a  further  word  Armstrong  turned,  left 
the  room  and  the  house.  Fosdick  did  not  follow  imme 
diately.  Instead,  he  seated  himself  to  puzzle  at  this 
development.  "  Hugo  stirred  him  up  about  that,  and 
he's  simply  trying  to  get  ready  for  the  committee," 
he  decided.  "  If  he  knew,  or  even  suspected,  he'd  act 
very  differently.  He's  having  his  heart  broken  none 
too  soon.  I've  never  seen  a  worse  case  of  swollen  head. 
I  pushed  him  up  too  fast.  I'm  really  to  blame;  I'm 
always  doing  hasty,  generous  things,  and  getting  my 
self  into  trouble,  and  those  I  meant  to  help.  Poor 
fool!  I'm  sorry  for  him.  I  suppose  once  I  get  him 
down  in  his  place,  I'll  be  soft  enough  to  relent  and 
give  him  something.  He's  got  talent.  I  can  use  him, 
once  I  have  him  broken  to  the  bit." 

In  came  Amy,  the  color  high  in  her  cheeks  from 
her  morning  walk.  She  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 
"  Well,  well,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  said  he. 

"  How  do  you  know  I  want  anything?  "  she  cried. 
247 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  In  the  first  place,  because  nobody  ever  comes  near 
me  except  to  get  something." 

"  Just  as  you  never  go  near  anybody  except  to 
take  something,"  she  retorted,  with  a  pull  at  his  mus 
tache. 

Fosdick  was  amused.  "  In  the  second  place,"  he 
went  on,  "  because  you  are  affectionate — which  not 
only  means  that  you  want  something,  but  also  that  the 
something  is  a  thing  you  feel  I  won't  give.  And  you're 
no  doubt  right." 

"  What  are  you  in  such  a  good  humor  about  ?  "  said 
she.  "  You  were  cross  as  a  bear  in  a  swarm  of  bees, 
at  breakfast." 

"  I'm  not  in  a  good  humor,"  he  protested.  "  I'm 
depressed.  I'm  looking  forward  to  doing  a  very  un 
pleasant  duty  to-morrow." 

His  daughter  laughed  at  him.  "  You  may  be  try 
ing  to  persuade  yourself  it's  unpleasant.  But  the 
truth  is,  you're  delighted.  Papa,  I've  been  thinking 
about  the  entrance." 

"  Keep  on  thinking,  but  don't  speak  about  it,"  re 
torted  he,  frowning. 

"  Really — it's  an  eyesore — so  small,  so  out  of  pro 
portion,  so  cheap " 

"Cheap!"  exclaimed  Fosdick.  "Why,  those 
bronze  doors  alone  cost  seventeen  thousand  dollars." 

"  Is  that  all!  "  scoffed  his  daughter.  "  Trafford's 
cost  forty  thousand." 

"  But  I'm  not  a  thief  like  Trafford.  And  let  me 
tell  you,  my  child,  seventeen  thousand  dollars  at  four 
per  cent  would  produce  each  year  a  larger  sum  than 
the  income  of  the  average  American  family." 

"  But  I've  often  heard  you  say  the  common  people 
have  entirely  too  much  money,  more  than  they  know 

248 


TWO    TELEPHONE    TALKS 

how  to  spend.     Now — about  the  entrance.     Alois  and 
I- 

"  When  you  marry  Fred  Roebuck,  I'll  let  you 
build  yourself  any  kind  of  town  house  you  like,"  in 
terrupted  her  father. 

She  perched  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  "  Now, 
really,  father,  you  know  you  wouldn't  let  me  marry  a 
man  it  makes  me  shudder  to  shake  hands  with?  " 

"  Nonsense — a  mere  notion.  You  try  to  feel  that 
way  because  you  know  you  ought  to  marry  him." 

"  Never — never — never  \  "  cried  Amy,  kissing  him 
at  each  "  never."  "  Besides,  he's  engaged  to  Sylvia 
Barrow.  He  got  tired  of  waiting  for  me." 

Fosdick  pushed  away  from  her.  "  I'm  bitterly  dis 
appointed  in  you,"  he  said,  scowling  at  her.  "  I've 
been  assuming  that  you  would  come  to  your  senses. 
What  would  become  of  you,  if  I  had  as  little  regard 
for  your  wishes  as  you  have  for  mine?" 

"  Fred  Roebuck  was  a  nobody,"  she  pleaded. 
"  You  despised  him  yourself.  Now,  papa  dear,  I'm 
thinking  of  marrying  a  somebody,  a  man  who  really 
amounts  to  something  in  himself." 

"Who?  "  demanded  Fosdick,  bristling  for  battle. 

"Alois  Siersdorf." 

Fosdick  sprang  up,  caught  her  roughly  by  the 
arm.  "  What !  "  he  shouted.  "  What !  " 

"  A  man  you  like  and  admire,"  Amy  went  on,  get 
ting  her  tears  ready.  "  He  looks  distinguished,  and 
he  is  distinguished,  and  is  certain  to  be  more  so.  Be 
sides,  what's  the  use  of  being  rich,  if  one  can't  please 
herself  when  it  comes  to  taking  a  husband?  I  want 
somebody  I  won't  be  ashamed  of,  somebody  I  can  live 
near  without  shuddering."  And  the  tears  descended 
in  floods. 

17  249 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

Her  father  turned  his  rage  against  Alois.  "  The 
impudence  of  a  fellow  like  that  aspiring  to  a  girl  in 
your  position." 

"  But  he  hasn't  been  impudent.  He's  been  very 
humble  and  backward." 

Josiah  was  busy  with  his  own  rage.  "  Why,  he's 
got  nothing!  " 

"  Nothing  but  brains." 

"  Brains ! "  Fosdick  snorted  contemptuously. 
"  Why,  they're  a  drug  on  the  market.  I  can  buy 
brains  by  the  hundred.  Men  with  brains  are  falling 
over  each  other  downtown,  trying  to  sell  out  for  a 
song." 

"  Not  brains  like  his,"  she  protested. 

"  Better — a  hundred  times  better.  Why,  his  brain 
belongs  to  me.  I've  bought  it.  I  have  it  whenever  and 
for  whatever  I  want." 

"  I — I  love  him,  father,"  she  sobbed,  hiding  her 
face  in  his  shoulder.  "  I've  tried  my  best  not  to.  But 
I  can't  live  without  him.  I — I — love  him !  " 

Fosdick  was  profoundly  moved.  There  were  tears 
in  his  eyes,  and  he  gently  stroked  her  hair.  She 
reached  out  for  his  hand,  took  it,  kissed  it,  and  put 
it  under  her  cheek — she  hated  to  have  anyone  touch 
her  hair,  which  was  most  troublesome  to  arrange  to 
her  liking.  "  Listen  to  me,  child,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  You  remember  when  Armstrong  was  trying  to  im 
pose  on  your  tender  heart?  You  remember  what  I 
said?  Was  I  not  right?  Aren't  you  glad  you  took 
my  advice  ?  " 

"  But  I  never  loved  him — really,"  said  Amy. 

"  And  you  don't  love  Alois.  You  couldn't  love  one 
of  our  dependents.  You  have  too  much  pride  for  that. 
But,  again  I  want  to  warn  you.  There's  a  reason — 

250 


TWO    TELEPHONE   TALKS 

the  best  of  reasons — why  you  must  not  be  even  friendly 
with — this  young  Siersdorf.  I  can't  explain  to  you. 
He's  an  adventurer  like  Armstrong.  Wait  a  few  days 
— a  very  few  days,  Amy.  He  has  been  careful  to  let 
you  see  only  the  one  side  of  him.  There's  another  side. 
When  you  see  that,  you'll  be  ashamed  you  ever  thought 
of  him,  even  in  jest.  You'll  see  why  I  want  you  to  be 
safely  established  as  the  wife  of  some  substantial  man." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  father." 

"I  tell  nothing,"  replied  Fosdick.  "Wait,  and 
you  will  see." 

"Is  it  something  to  his  discredit?  If  so,  I  can 
tell  you  right  now  it  isn't  true." 

"Wait— that's  all.     Wait." 

66  But,  father — after  all  he's  done  for  us,  isn't  it 
only  fair  to  warn  him?  " 

"Warn  him  of  what?" 

"  Of  what  you  say  is  going  to  happen." 

"  If  you  want  to  do  yourself  and  me  the  greatest 
possible  damage,  you'll  hint  to  him  what  I've  said.  Do 
you  understand  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  fair  not  to  warn  him,"  she  insisted.  And 
she  released  herself  from  his  arms  and  faced  him  de 
fiantly.  "  I  tell  you,  I  love  him,  father !  " 

"  Was  ever  parent  so  cursed  in  his  children !  "  cried. 
Fosdick.     "  I'm  in  the  house  of  my  enemies.     I  tell 
you,  Amy,  you  are  to  keep  your  mouth  shut !  "     He 
struck   the  floor   sharply  with  his   cane.      "  I  will  be 
obeyed,  do  you  hear?  " 

"  And  I  tell  you,  father,"  retorted  Amy,  "  that  I'm 
going  to  warn  him.  He's  straight  and  honest,  and 
he  loves  me  and  he  has  done  things  for  me,  for  us, 
that  make  us  his  debtor." 

Fosdick   threw   up  his   arms   in  angry  impotence. 
251 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  Do  your  damnedest !  "  he  cried.  "After  all,  what  can 
you  tell  him?  You  can  only  throw  him  into  a  fever 
and  put  him  in  a  worse  plight.  But  I  warn  you  that, 
if  you  disobey  me,  I'll  make  you  pay  for  it.  I'll  cut 
off  your  allowance.  I'll  teach  you  what  it  means  to 
love  and  respect  a  father."  And  he  raged  out  of  the 
house. 

Even  as  her  father  went,  Amy  felt  in  the  founda 
tion  of  her  defiance  the  first  tremors  of  impending  col 
lapse.  She  rushed  upstairs  to  the  telephone ;  she  would 
not  let  this  impulse  to  do  the  generous,  no,  simply  the 
decent,  thing  ooze  away  as  her  impulses  of  that  sort 
usually  did,  if  she  had  or  took  time  to  calculate  the 
personal  inconvenience  from  executing  them.  After  a 
rather  common  and  most  pleasing  human  habit,  she 
regarded  herself  as  generous,  and  was  so  regarded,  be 
cause  she  had  generous  impulses ;  to  execute  them  was, 
therefore,  more  or  less  superfluous.  In  this  particular 
instance,  however,  she  felt  that  impulse  was  not 
enough;  there  must  be  action. 

"Is  it  you?"  came  in  Alois's  voice,  just  in  time 
to  stimulate  her  flagging  energy.  "  I  was  about  to 
call  you  up." 

"  I  must  see  you  at  once,"  said  Amy,  with  fever 
ish  eagerness.  "  I've  got  something  very,  very  impor 
tant  to  say  to  you."  She  hesitated,  decided  that  she 
must  commit  herself  beyond  possibility  of  evasion — 
"  something  about  an  attempt  to  do  you  a  great  in 
jury." 

"  Oh !  "  His  tone  was  curiously  constrained ;  it 
seemed  to  her  that  there  was  terror,  guilt,  in  it. 
"  Shall  I  come  up?  I've  just  found  out  I  must  sail 
for  Europe  at  noon." 

"  At  noon !     To-day?  " 

252 


TWO    TELEPHONE    TALKS 

"  In  about  two  hours.  And  I  must  say  good-by 
to  you.  It's  very  sudden.  I  haven't  even  told  my 
sister  yet,  though  she's  in  the  next  room,  here." 

"  I'U  come  down— that  is— I'U  try  to."  Amy  felt 
weak,  sick,  sinking,  suffocating  in  a  whirl  of  doubts 
and  fears.  "  You  are  going  on  business  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  the  answer  in  a  voice  that  rang  false. 
"  On  business.  I'll  be  away  only  a  few  weeks,  I  think." 

"  If  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  come — good-by,"  said 
Amy. 

"  But  I  hope—  Let  me  come —  Wouldn't  that  be 
better?" 

Not  a  word  about  what  she  had  said,  when  it  ought 
to  have  put  him  into  a  quiver  of  anxiety;  certainly, 
his  going  abroad  looked  like  knowledge,  guilt,  flight. 
"  No — no — you  mustn't  come,"  she  commanded.  "  I'll 
do  my  best  to  get  to  you."  And  she  added,  "  We 
might  simply  miss  each  other,  if  you  didn't  wait  there." 

"Please— Amy!" 

She  shivered.  How  far  she  had  gone  with  him ! 
And  her  father  was  right !  "  Good-by,"  she  faltered, 
hastily  ringing  off. 

If  she  could  have  seen  him,  her  worst  suspicions 
would  have  been  confirmed;  for  his  hair  was  mussed 
and  damp  with  sweat,  his  skin  looked  as  if  he  were 
in  a  garish  light.  He  tried  to  compose  himself,  went 
in  where  his  sister  was  at  work — absorbed  in  making 
the  drawings  of  a  new  kind  of  chimney-piece  she  had 
been  thinking  out.  "  Cis,"  he  said,  in  an  uncertain 
voice,  "  I'm  off  for  Europe  at  noon." 

She  wheeled  on  him.     "Fosdick?" 

He  nodded.  "  His  secretary,  Waller,  was  just 
here." 

253 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

A  few  seconds  during  which  he  could  feel  the 
energy  of  her  swift  thoughts.  Then,  "  Wait !  "  she 
commanded,  and  darted  into  her  private  office,  closing 
the  door. 

She  was  gone  twenty  minutes.  "  The  person  I  was 
calling  up  hadn't  got  in,"  she  explained,  when  she  re 
turned.  "  I  had  to  wait  for  him.  You  are  to  stay 
here — you  are  not  to  go  in  any  circumstances." 

"  I  must  go,"  was  his  answer  in  a  dreary  tone.  "  I 
promised  Fosdick,  and  I  daren't  offend  him.  Besides 
— well,  it's  prudent." 

"  'Lois,"  said  Narcisse  earnestly,  "  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor,  it  would  be  the  very  worst  step  you 
could  take,  to  obey  Fosdick  and  go.  I  promise  you 
that,  if  you  stay,  all  will  be  well.  If  you  go,  you  would 
better  throw  yourself  into  the  sea,  midway,  for  you 
will  ruin  your  reputation — ours." 

He  dropped  into  a  chair.  "  My  instinct  is  against 
going,"  he  confessed.  "  I've  done  nothing.  I  haven't 
got  a  cent  that  doesn't  belong  to  me  honestly.  But, 
Cis,  I  simply  mustn't  offend  Fosdick." 

"  Because  of  Amy  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  If  you  go,  you'll  have  no  more  chance  for  Her 
than — than  a  convict  in  a  penitentiary." 

"  You  know  something  you  are  not  telling  me?  " 

"  I  do.     Something  I  can't  tell  you." 

He  supported  his  aching  head  with  his  hands  and 
stared  long  at  the  floor.  "  I'll  not  go !  "  he  exclaimed, 
springing  to  his  feet  suddenly.  "  I've  done  nothing 
wrong.  I'll  not  run  away." 

Narcisse  had  been  watching  him  as  if  she  were  see 
ing  him  struggling  for  his  life  in  deep  water  before 
her  very  eyes.  At  his  words,  at  his  expression,  like 

254 


TWO    TELEPHONE    TALKS 

his  own  self,  the  brother  she  had  brought  up  and 
guarded  and  loved  with  the  love  that  is  deeper  than 
any  love  which  passion  ever  kindled — at  this  procla 
mation  of  the  victory  of  his  better  self,  she  burst  into 
tears.  "'Lois!  'Lois!"  she  sobbed.  "Now  I  can  be 
happy  again.  If  you  had  gone  it  would  have  killed 
me."  And  the  tone  in  which  she  said  it  made  him 
realize  that  she  was  speaking  the  literal  truth. 

The  natural  color  was  coming  back  to  his  face.  He 
patted  her  on  the  shoulder.  "  I'm  not  a  weak,  damn 
fool  clear  through,  Cissy,"  cried  he,  "  though,  I  must 
say,  I've  got  a  big,  broad  streak  of  it.  You  are  sure 
of  your  ground?  " 

"  Absolutely,"  she  assured  him,  radiant  now,  and 
so  beautiful  that  even  he  noted  and  admired.  But 
then,  he  was  in  the  mood  to  appreciate  her.  So  long 
as  the  way  was  smooth,  he  could  neglect  her  and  put 
aside  her  love,  as  we  all  have  the  habit  of  neglecting 
and  taking  for  granted,  in  fair  weather,  the  things 
that  are  securely  ours.  But,  let  the  storms  come,  and 
how  quickly  we  show  that  we  knew  all  the  time,  in  our 
hearts,  whom  we  could  count  on,  could  draw  upon  for 
strength  and  courage — the  few,  real  friends — perhaps, 
only  one — and  one  is  quite  enough,  is  legion,  if  it  be 
the  right  one. 

"  You're  not  trusting  to  somebody  else  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Of  course  I  am.  But  he's  a  real  somebody,  one 
I'd  stake  my  life  on.  'Lois,  I  know." 

"That  settles  it,"  said  he.  "But  even  if  you 
weren't  sure,  even  if  I  were  certain  the  worst  would 
overtake  me,  I'd  not  budge  out  of  this  town.  As  for 
Amy,  if  she's  what  I  think  her,  she'll  stand  the  test. 
If  not —  After  all,  I  don't  need  anybody  but  you, 
Cissy." 

255 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

And  he  embraced  and  kissed  her,  and  went  back  to 
his  own  part  of  the  offices,  head  high  and  step  firm. 
He  stirred  round  there  uneasily  for  a  while,  then  shut 
himself  in  with  the  telephone  and  called  up  Fosdick's 
house.  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  Miss  Fosdick,"  he  said. 

Presently  he  heard  Amy's  voice.     "  Well,  Hugo  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  your  brother,"  said  Alois.     "  It's  I." 

"  Oh !  "  Her  tone  was  very  different — and  he  did 
not  like  it,  though  he  could  not  have  said  why.  "  The 
servant,"  she  explained,  "  said  she  thought  it  was 
Hugo." 

"  I've  changed  my  mind  about  going  abroad.  You 
said  you  wanted  to  see  me  about  some  matter.  I  think 
— in  fact,  I'm  sure — I  know  what  you  mean.  Don't 
trouble;  I'll  come  out  all  right.  By  the  way,  please 
tell  your  father  I'm  not  going,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Father !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Did  he  want  you  to 
go?" 

"  I'd  rather  not  talk  about  that.  It's  a  matter 
of  business.  Please  don't  give  him  the  impression  I 
told  you  anything.  Really,  I  haven't — have  I  ?  " 

"  Did  father  want  you  to  go  abroad  ?  "  insisted  Amy. 

"  I  can't  talk  about  it  over  the  telephone.  I'll  tell 
you  when  I  see  you — all  about  it — if  you  think  you'd 
be  interested." 

"  Please  answer  my  one  question,"  she  pleaded. 
"  Then  I'll  not  bother  you  any  more." 

"  Then — yes."  He  waited  for  her  next  remark, 
but  it  did  not  come.  "  Are  you  still  there?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  her  answer,  faint  and  strange. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried.     "What's  the  matter?" 

"  Nothing.  Good-by — and — I'm  so  glad  you're 
not  going — oh,  I  can't  express  how  glad — Alois !  " 

She  did  not  give  him  the  chance  to  reply. 
256 


XX 


BORIS    DISCLOSES    HIMSELF 

HUGO,  sitting  to  Boris  for  the  portrait  afterward 
locally  famous  as  "  The  Young  Ass,"  fell  into  the  habit 
of  expatiating  upon  Armstrong.  His  mind  was  full 
of  the  big  Westerner,  the  author  of  the  most  abject 
humiliation  of  his  life,  the  only  one  he  could  not  explain 
away,  to  his  own  satisfaction,  as  wholly  some  one  else's 
fault.  Boris  humored  him,  by  discreetly  sympathetic 
response  even  encouraged  him  to  talk  freely;  nor  was 
Boris's  sole  reason  the  undeniable  fact  that  when  Hugo 
was  babbling  about  Armstrong,  his  real  personality 
disported  itself  unrestrained  in  the  features  the 
painter  was  striving  to  portray.  The  wisest  parent 
never  takes  a  just  measure  of  his  child;  and,  while  the 
paternal  passion  is  tardier  in  beginning  than  the  ma 
ternal,  it  is  full  as  deluding  once  it  lays  hold.  Fosdick 
thought  he  regarded  Hugo  as  a  fool ;  also  he  had  fresh 
in  mind  proof  that  Hugo  was  highly  dangerous  to 
any  delicate  enterprise.  Yet  he  confided  in  him  that 
they  would  both  be  soon  signally  revenged  upon  the 
impudent  upstart.  He  did  not  tell  how  or  when ;  but 
Hugo  guessed  that  it  would  be  at  the  coming  "  investi 
gation." 

A  very  few  days  after  his  father  had  told  him,  he 
told  Boris.  What  possible  danger  could  there  be  in 
telling  a  painter  who  hadn't  the  slightest  interest  in 

£57 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

business  matters,  and  who  hadn't  the  intellect  to  un 
derstand  them?  For  Hugo  had  for  the  intellect  of 
the  painter  the  measureless  contempt  of  the  con 
temptible.  Also,  Boris  patterned  his  dress  after  the 
Continental  fashions  for  which  Hugo,  severely  and 
slavishly  English  in  dress,  had  the  Englishman's  deri 
sive  disdain.  Boris  listened  to  Hugo's  confidence  with 
no  sign  of  interest  or  understanding,  and  Hugo  bab 
bled  on.  Soon,  Boris  knew  more  than  did  Hugo  of 
the  impending  catastrophe  to  the  one  man  in  the  whole 
world  whom  he  did  the  honor  of  hating. 

Hate  is  an  unusual  emotion  in  a  man  so  tolerant, 
so  cynical,  at  once  superior  and  conscious  of  it.  But, 
watching  Armstrong  with  Neva,  watching  Neva  when 
Armstrong  was  about,  Raphael  had  come  to  feel  rather 
than  to  see  that  there  was  some  tie  between  them.  He 
had  no  difficulty  in  imagining  the  nature  of  this  tie. 
A  man  and  a  woman  who  have  lived  together  may, 
often  do,  remain  entire  strangers;  but  however  con 
strained  and  shy  and  unreal  their  intimacy  may  have 
been,  still  that  intimacy  has  become  an  integral  part 
of  their  secret  selves.  It  is  the  instinctive  realization 
of  this,  rather  than  physical  jealousy,  that  haunts  and 
harrows  the  man  who  knows  his  wife  or  mistress  did 
not  come  to  him  virgin,  and  that  does  not  leave  him 
until  the  former  husband  or  lover  is  dead.  Boris  did 
not  for  an  instant  believe  Neva  could  by  any  possi 
bility  fall  in  love  with  Armstrong — what  could  she, 
the  artistic  and  refined,  have  in  common  with  Arm 
strong,  crude,  coarse,  unappreciative  of  all  that  meant 
life  to  her?  A  man  could  care  without  mental  or  heart 
sympathy,  and  a  certain  kind  of  woman ;  but  not  a 
Neva,  whose  delicacy  was  so  sensitive  that  he,  with  all 
his  expert  delicacy  of  touch,  all  his  trained  softness 

258 


BORIS    DISCLOSES   HIMSELF 

of  reassuring  approach,  was  still  far  from  her.  No, 
Neva  could  never  love  Armstrong.  But  why  did  she 
not  detest  him?  Why  did  she  tolerate  a  presence  that 
must  remind  her  of  repulsive  hours,  of  moments  of 
horror  too  intense  even  to  quiver  ?  "  It  is  the  feminine, 
the  feline  in  her,"  he  reflected.  "  She  is  avenging  her 
self  in  the  pleasure  of  watching  his  torment." 

That  was  logical,  was  consoling.  However,  Boris 
was  wishing  she  would  get  her  fill  of  vengeance  and  send 
the  intruder  about  his  stupid,  vulgar  business.  Hugo's 
news  thrilled  him.  "  I  hope  the  hulk  will  have  to  fly 
the  country,"  he  said  to  himself.  He  did  not  hope,  as 
did  Hugo,  that  Armstrong  would  have  to  go  to  the 
penitentiary.  Such  was  his  passion  for  liberty,  for 
the  free  air  and  sunshine,  that  he  could  not  think  with 
pleasure  of  even  an  enemy's  being  behind  bolts  and 
bars  and  the  dank  dusk  of  high,  thick  prison  walls. 
As  several  weeks  passed  without  Armstrong's  calling — 
he  always  felt  it  when  Armstrong  had  been  there — 
he  became  as  cheerful,  as  gay,  and  confident  as  of 
old. 

But  he  soon  began  to  note  that  Neva  was  not  up 
to  the  mark.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  at  once  asked  him 
self  in  alarm  whose  deep,  hidden  causes  he  did  not  sus 
pect,  so  slow  are  men  of  his  kind  to  accuse  them 
selves  of  harboring  so  vanity-depressing  a  passion  as 
jealousy.  "Has  he  got  wind  of  his  danger?  Has  he 
been  trying  to  work  on  her  sympathies?"  He  pro 
ceeded  to  find  out. 

"  What's  wrong,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  he,  in  his  gentle, 
caressing,  master-to-pupil  way.  "  You  aren't  as  in 
terested  as  you  were.  This  sunshine  doesn't  reflect 
from  your  face  and  your  voice  as  it  should." 

"  I've  been  worried  about  a  friend  of  mine,"  con- 
259 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

f essed  she.  "  There's  no  real  cause  for  worry,  but  I 
can't  shake  off  a  foreboding." 

"  Tell  me,"  urged  he.     "  It'll  do  you  good." 

"  It's  nothing  I  can  talk  about.  Really,  I'm  not 
so  upset  as  you  seem  to  imagine." 

But  a  few  moments  later  he  heard  a  deep  sigh.  He 
glanced  at  her ;  she  was  staring  into  vacancy,  her  face 
sad,  her  eyes  tragic.  In  one  of  these  irresistible  gusts 
of  passion,  he  flung  down  his  brushes,  strode  up  to  her. 
"  What  has  that  scoundrel  been  saying  to  you  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

She  startled,  rose,  faced  him  in  amazement. 
"  Boris !  "  she  cried  breathlessly. 

The  body  that  is  molded  upon  a  spirit  such  as 
his — or  hers — becomes  as  mobile  to  its  changes  as  cloud 
to  sun  and  wind.  Boris's  good  looks  always  had  a 
suggestion  of  the  superhuman,  as  if  the  breath  of  life 
in  him  were  a  fiercer,  more  enduring  flame  than  in 
ordinary  mortals.  That  superhuman  look  it  was  that 
had  made  Neva,  the  sensitive,  the  appreciative,  unable 
ever  quite  to  shake  off  all  the  awe  of  him  she  had  orig 
inally  felt.  The  man  before  her  now  had  never  looked 
so  superhuman ;  but  it  was  the  superhumanness  of  the 
fiend.  She  shrank  in  fascinated  terror.  His  sensuous 
features  were  sensuality  personified ;  his  rings,  his 
jeweled  watch  guard,  his  odor  of  powerful  perfume, 
all  fitted  in  with  his  expression,  where  theretofore  they 
had  seemed  incongruous.  "  Boris ! "  she  repeated. 
"Is  that  you?" 

Her  face  brought  him  immediately  back  to  himself, 
or  rather  to  his  normal  combination  of  cynical  good- 
humored  actuality  and  cynical  good-humored  pose. 
The  vision  had  vanished  from  her  eyes,  so  utterly,  so 
swiftly,  that  she  might  have  thought  she  had  been 

260 


BORIS   DISCLOSES   HIMSELF 

dreaming,  had  it  not  remained  indelibly  upon  her  mind 
— especially  his  eyes,  like  hunger,  like  thirst,  like  pas 
sion  insatiable,  like  menace  of  mortal  peril.  It  is 
one  thing  to  suspect  what  is  behind  a  mask ;  it  is  quite 
another  matter  to  see,  with  the  mask  dropped  and  the 
naked  soul  revealed.  As  she,  too,  recovered  herself,  her 
terror  faded;  but  the  fascination  remained,  and  a  cer 
tain  delight  and  pride  in  herself  that  she  was  the  con 
jurer  of  such  a  passion  as  that.  For  women  never 
understand  that  they  are  no  more  the  authors  of  the 
passions  they  evoke  than  the  spark  is  the  author  of 
the  force  in  the  dynamite  it  explodes  or  of  the  ensuing 
destruction;  if  the  dynamite  is  there,  any  spark, 
rightly  placed,  will  do  the  work. 

"  Yes,  it's  I,"  replied  Raphael,  rather  confusedly. 
He  was  as  much  disconcerted  by  what  he  had  himself 
seen  of  himself,  as  by  having  shown  it  to  her.  A  storm 
that  involves  one's  whole  being  stirs  up  from  the  bot 
tom  and  lifts  to  the  surface  many  a  strange  secret  of 
weakness  and  of  wickedness,  none  stranger  than  the 
secrets  of  one's  real  feelings  and  beliefs,  so  different 
from  one's  professions  to  others  and  to  himself.  Ra 
phael  had  seen  two  of  these  secrets — first,  that  he  was 
insanely  jealous  of  Armstrong;  second,  that  he  was  in 
love  with  Neva.  Not  the  jealousy  and  the  love  that 
yet  leave  a  man  master  of  himself,  but  the  jealousy 
and  the  love  that  enslave.  In  the  silence  that  followed 
this  scene  of  so  few  words  and  so  strong  emotions, 
while  Neva  was  hanging  fascinated  over  the  discovery 
of  his  passion  for  her,  he  was  gazing  furtively  at  her, 
the  terror  that  had  been  hers  now  his. 

He  had  been  fancying  he  was  leading  her  along  the 
flower-walled  path  he  had  trod  so  often  with  some 
passing  embodiment  of  his  passing  fancy,  was  luring 

261 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

her  to  the  bower  where  he  had  so  often  taught  what 
he  called  and  thought  "  the  great  lesson."  Instead, 
he  was  himself  being  whirled  through  space — whither? 
"  I  love  her ! "  he  said  to  himself,  tears  in  his  eyes  and 
tears  and  fears  in  his  heart.  "  This  is  not  like  the 
others — not  at  all — not  at  all.  I  love  her,  and  I  am 
afraid."  And  then  there  came  to  him  a  memory — a 
vision — a  girl  whom  he  had  taught  "  the  great  lesson  " 
years  before;  she  had  disappeared  when  he  grew  tired 
— or,  perhaps  it  would  be  more  accurate  to  say,  when 
he  had  exhausted  for  the  time  the  capacity  of  his 
nerves ;  for  how  can  a  man  grow  tired  of  what  he  never 
had? — and  the  rake  kills  the  bird  for  the  one  feather 
in  its  crest.  At  any  rate,  he  sent  her  away;  he  was 
seeing  now  the  look  in  her  eyes,  as  she  went  without 
a  murmur  or  a  sigh.  And  he  was  understanding  at 
last  what  that  look  meant.  In  the  anguish  of  an  emo 
tion  like  remorse,  yet  too  selfish,  perhaps,  too  self- 
pitying  for  remorse,  he  muttered,  "  Forgive  me.  I 
didn't  know  what  I  was  doing." 

The  vision  faded  back  to  the  oblivion  from  which  it 
had  so  curiously  emerged.  He  glanced  at  Neva  again, 
with  critical  eyes,  like  a  surgeon  diagnosing  stolidly  his 
own  desperate  wound.  She  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  busy 
at  her  easel.  He  could  study  her,  without  interrup 
tion.  He  made  slow,  lingering  inventory  of  her  physi 
cal  charms — beauties  of  hair  and  skin  and  contour, 
beauties  of  bosom's  swell  and  curve  of  arm  and  slant 
of  hip  and  leg.  No,  it  was  not  in  any  of  these,  this 
supreme  charm  of  her  for  him.  Where  then? 

For  the  first  time  he  saw  it.  He  had  been  assum 
ing  he  was  regarding  her  as  he  had  regarded  every 
other  woman  in  the  long  chain  his  memory  was  weaving 
from  his  experiences  and  was  coiling  away  to  beguile 


BORIS   DISCLOSES   HIMSELF 

his  days  of  the  almond  tree  and  the  bated  sound  of 
the  grinding.  And  he  had  esteemed  these  women  at 
their  own  valuation.  It  was  the  fashion  for  women  to 
profess  to  esteem  themselves,  and  to  expect  to  be 
esteemed,  for  reasons  other  than  their  physical  charms. 
But  Boris,  searcher  into  realities,  held  that  only  those 
women  who  by  achievement  earn  independence  as  a  man 
earns  it,  have  title  to  count  as  personalities,  to  be  taken 
seriously  in  their  professions.  He  saw  that  the  women 
he  knew  made  only  the  feeblest  pretense  to  real  per 
sonal  value  other  than  physical;  they  based  themselves 
upon  their  bodies  alone.  So,  women  had  been  to  him 
what  they  were  to  themselves — mere  animate  flesh. 

He  attached  no  more  importance — beyond  polite 
fiction — than  did  they  themselves  to  what  they  thought 
and  felt;  it  was  what  men  thought  of  their  persons, 
what  feelings  their  persons  roused  in  men — that  is,  in 
him.  And  he  meted  out  to  them  the  fate  they  expected, 
respected  him  the  more  for  giving  them ;  when  they 
ceased  to  serve  their  sole  purpose  of  ornament  or  play 
thing  he  flung  them  away?  with  more  ceremony,  per 
haps,  but  with  no  less  indifference  than  the  emptied 
bottles  of  the  scent  he  imported  in  quantity  and 
drenched  himself  with. 

But  he  saw  the  truth  about  Neva  now — saw  why, 
after  the  few  first  weeks  of  their  acquaintance,  he  had 
not  even  been  made  impatient  by  her  bad  days — the 
days  when  her  skin  clouded,  her  eyes  dimmed,  her  hair 
lost  its  luster,  and  the  color,  leaving  her  lips,  seemed 
to  take  with  it  the  dazzling  charm  of  her  blue-white 
teeth.  Why?  Because  her  appeal  to  his  senses  was 
not  so  strong  as  her  appeal  to —  He  could  not  tell 
what  it  was  in  him  this  inner  self  of  hers  appealed 
to.  Heart?  Hardly:  that  meant  her  physical  beauty. 

263 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

Intellect?  Certainly  not  that;  intellect  rather  wearied 
him  than  otherwise,  and  the  sincerest  permanent  long 
ing  of  his  life  was  to  cease  from  thinking,  to  feel,  only 
to  feel — birds,  flowers,  perfumed  airs,  the  thrill  of 
winds  among  grasses  and  leaves,  sunshine,  the  play  of 
light  upon  women's  hair,  the  ecstasy  of  touch  drifting 
over  their  smooth,  magnetic  bodies.  No,  it  was  neither 
her  intellect  nor  her  heart,  any  more  than  it  was  her 
loveliness.  Or,  rather,  it  was  all  three,  and  that  some 
thing  more  which  makes  a  man  happy  he  knows  not 
why  and  cares  not  to  know  why. 

"  I  would  leave  anyone  else  to  come  to  her,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  And  if  anyone  else  lured  me  away  from 
her,  it  would  be  only  for  the  moment ;  I  would  know  I 
should  have  to  return  to  her,  as  a  dog  to  its  master." 
He  repeated  bitterly,  mockingly,  "  As  a  dog  to  its 
master.  That's  what  it  means  to  be  artist  —  more 
woman  than  man,  and  more  feminine  than  any  woman 
ever  was." 

He  stood  behind  her,  looking  at  her  work.  "  You'd 
better  stop  for  to-day,"  he  said  presently.  "  You're 
only  spoiling  what  you  did  yesterday." 

"  So  I  am,"  said  she. 

She  put  down  palette  and  brushes  with  a  sigh  and 
a  shrug.  When  she  turned,  he  stood  his  ground  and 
looked  into  her  eyes.  "  I've  been  letting  outside  things 
come  between  me  and  my  work,"  she  went  on,  pretend 
ing  to  ignore  his  gaze. 

"  You  guessed  my  secret  a  few  minutes  ago  ?  "  he 
asked. 

She  nodded,  and  it  half  amused,  half  hurt  him  to 
note  that  she  was  physically  on  guard,  lest  he  should 
seize  her  unawares. 

His  smile  broadened.  "  You  needn't  be  alarmed," 
264 


BORIS   DISCLOSES   HIMSELF 

said  he,  clasping  his  hands  behind  his  back.     "  I've  no 
intention  of  doing  it." 

She  was  smiling  now,  also.  "  Well,"  she  said. 
"What  next?" 

"  Why  are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid."  She  clasped  her  hands  behind 
her,  like  his,  looked  at  him  with  laughing,  level  eyes ; 
for  he  and  she  were  of  the  same  height.  "  Not  a  bit." 

"Why  were  you  afraid?"  he  corrected.  "You 
never  were  before." 

She  seemed  to  reflect.  "  No,  I  never  was,"  she  ad 
mitted.  Her  gaze  dropped  and  her  color  came. 

"  Neva,"  he  said  gently,  "  do  you  love  me?  " 

She  lifted  her  eyes,  studied  him  with  the  charac 
teristic  half  closing  of  the  lids  that  made  her  gaze 
so  intense  and  so  alluring.  He  could  not  decide 
whether  that  gaze  was  coquetry,  as  he  hoped,  or  simply 
sincere  inquiry,  as  he  feared.  "  I  do  not  know,"  she 
said.  "  I  admire  and  respect  you  above  all  men." 

He  laughed,  carefully  concealing  how  her  words 
had  stung  him.  "  Admire !  Respect !  "  He  made  a 
mocking  little  bow.  "  I  thank  you,  madam.  But — in 
old  age — after  death — is  soon  enough  for  that  cold 
grandeur." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  repeated.  "  I  had  never 
thought  about  it  until  a  while  ago — when  you — when 
your  expression — "  She  dropped  her  gaze  again.  "  I 
can't  explain." 

Coquetry  or  shyness  ?  He  could  not  tell.  "  Neva, 
do  you  love  anyone  else  ?  " 

"  I — think — not,"  replied  she,  very  low. 

His  eyes  were  like  a  tiger  peering  through  a  flower- 
freighted   bush.      "  You   love   Armstrong,"   he   urged, 
softly  as  the  purr  before  the  spring. 
18  265 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

She  was  gazing  steadily  at  him  now.  "  We  were 
talking  of  you  and  me,"  rejoined  she,  her  voice  clear 
and  positive.  "  If  I  loved  you,  it  would  not  be  be 
cause  I  did  not  love  some  other  man.  If  I  did  not 
love  you  it  would  not  be  because  I  did  love  some 
other." 

There  might  be  evasion  in  that  reply,  but  there 
could  be  no  lack  of  sincerity.  "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
he  apologized.  "  I  forgot.  The  idea  that  there  could 
be  such  a  woman  as  you  is  very  new  to  me.  A  few 
minutes  ago,  I  made  a  discovery  as  startling  as  when 
I  first  saw  you — there  at  the  Morrises." 

"  How  much  I  owe  you ! "  she  exclaimed,  and  her 
whole  face  lighted  up. 

But  his  shadowed;  for  he  remembered  that  of  all 
the  emotions  gratitude  is  least  akin  to  love.  "  I  made 
a  startling  discovery,"  he  went  on.  "  I  discovered  you 
— a  you  I  had  never  suspected.  And  I  discovered  a 
me  I  had  never  dreamed  of.  Neva,  I  love  you.  I 
have  never  loved  before." 

She  grew  very  pale,  and  he  thought  she  was  trem 
bling.  But  when,  with  her  returning  color,  her  eyes 
lifted  to  his,  they  were  mocking.  "  Why,  your  tone 
was  even  better  than  I  should  have  anticipated.  You 
— love?"  scoffed  she.  "Do  you  think  I  could  study 
you  this  long  and  not  find  out  at  least  that  about 
you?" 

"  I  love  you,"  he  insisted,  earnestly  enough,  though 
his  eyes  were  echoing  her  mockery. 

"  You  could  not  love,"  affirmed  she.  "  You  have 
given  yourself  out  little  by  little — here  and  there. 
You  have  really  nothing  left  to  give." 

A  man  of  less  vision,  of  slower  mind  would  have 
been  able  to  protest.  But  Boris  instantly  saw  what 

266 


BORIS   DISCLOSES   HIMSELF 

she  meant,  felt  the  truth  in  her  verdict.  "  Nothing  left 
to  give  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  she. 

There  are  some  words  that  sound  like  the  tolling 
of  the  bells  of  fate;  those  words  of  hers  sounded  thus 
to  him.  "  Nothing  left  to  give,"  he  repeated.  Had 
he  indeed  wasted  his  whole  self  upon  trifles?  Had 
he  lit  his  lamps  so  long  before  the  feast  that  now, 
with  the  bride  come,  they  were  quite  burned  out?  He 
looked  at  her  and,  like  the  vague  yet  vivid  visions 
music  shows  us  and  snatches  away  before  we  have  seen 
more  than  just  that  they  were  there,  he  caught  a 
haunting  glimpse  of  the  beauty  supernal  which  he 
loved  and  longed  for,  but  with  his  tired,  blunted  senses 
could  not  hope  to  realize  or  attain.  .  .  .  The  blas 
phemer's  fate! — to  kiss  the  dust  before  the  god  he 
had  reviled.  .  .  .  He  burst  out  laughing,  his  hearty, 
sensuous,  infectious  laughter.  "  I'm  getting  senile," 
said  he.  With  a  flash  of  angrily  reluctant  awe,  "  Or 
rather,  you  have  bewitched  me."  He  got  ready  to 
depart.  "  So,  my  lady  of  joy  and  pain,  you  do  not 
love  me — yet?  "  he  inquired  jestingly. 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  smile  which  the  gleam 
of  her  eyes  from  their  narrow  lids  and  the  sweeping 
lashes  made  coquettish.  "  Not  yet,"  replied  she,  in 
his  own  tone. 

"  Well,  don't  try.  Love  doesn't  come  for  must. 
To-morrow?  Yes.  A  new  day,  a  new  deal." 

They  shook  hands  warmly,  looked  at  each  other 
with  laughing  eyes,  no  shadow  of  seriousness  either  in 
him  or  in  her.  "  You  are  the  first  woman  I  ever  loved," 
said  he.  "  And  you  shall  be  the  last.  I  do  not  like 
this  love,  now  that  I  am  acquainted  with  it."  The 
sunlight  pouring  upon  his  head  made  him  beautiful 

267 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

like  a  Bacchus,  with  color  and  life  glittering  in  his 
crisp,  reddish  hair  and  virile,  close-cropped  beard.  "  I 
do  not  feel  safe  when  my  soul's  center  of  gravity  is 
in  another  person."  He  kissed  her  hand.  "  Till  to 
morrow." 

She  was  smiling,  coloring,  trying  to  hide  the  smile ; 
but  he  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  because  she  was 
more  moved  than  she  cared  to  have  him  see,  or  merely 
because  his  curious  but  highly  effective  form  of  adora 
tion  pleased  her  vanity  and  she  did  not  wish  him  to 
see  it.  "  To-morrow,"  echoed  she. 

He  bowed  himself  out,  still  smiling,  as  if  once  be 
yond  the  door  he  might  burst  into  laughter  at  himself 
or  at  her — or  might  wearily  drop  his  merry  mask. 
Her  last  look  that  he  saw  was  covertly  inquiring, 
doubtful  —  as  if  she  might  be  wondering,  Is  he  in 
earnest,  does  he  really  care,  or  was  he  only  imagining 
love  and  exaggerating  the  fancy  to  amuse  himself  and 
me? 

Outside  the  door,  he  did  drop  his  mask  of  comedy 
to  reveal  a  face  not  without  the  tragic  touch  in  its 
somberness.  "Does  she  care?"  he  muttered.  And  he 
answered  himself,  "  After  all  my  experience !  .  .  .  Ex 
perience!  It  simply  puts  hope  on  its  mettle.  Do  I 
not  know  that  if  she  loved  she  would  not  hesitate? 
And  yet —  Hope!  You  Jack-o'-lantern,  luring  man 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  slough  of  despond.  I  know 
you  for  the  trickster  you  are,  Hope.  But,  lead  on ! " 

And  he  went  his  way,  humming  the  "  March  of  the 
Toreadors  "  and  swinging  his  costly,  showy,  tortoise- 
shell  cane  gayly. 


268 


XXI 

A    SENSATIONAL    DAY 

WHEN  Fosdick,  summoned  by  telephone,  entered 
the  august  presence  of  the  august  committee  of  the 
august  legislature  of  the  august  "  people  of  the  State 
of  New  York,  by  the  grace  of  God  free  and  inde 
pendent,"  there  were,  save  the  reporters,  a  scant  dozen 
spectators.  The  purpose  of  the  committee  had  been 
dwindled  to  "  a  technical  inquiry  with  a  view  further 
to  improve  the  excellent  laws  under  which  the  purified 
and  at  last  really  honest  managements  of  insurance 
companies  and  banks  had  brought  them  to  such  a  high 
state  of  honest  strength."  So,  the  announcement  in 
the  morning  papers  that  the  committee  was  to  begin 
its  labors  for  the  public  good  attracted  attention  only 
among  those  citizens  who  keep  themselves  informed  of 
loafing  places  that  are  comfortable  in  the  cold  weather. 

Fosdick  bowed  with  dignified  deference  to  the  com 
mittee;  the  committee  bowed  to  Fosdick — respectfully 
but  nervously.  There  were  five  in  the  row  seated  be 
hind  the  long  oak  table  on  the  rostrum  under  the 
colossal  figure  of  Justice.  Furthest  to  the  left  sat 
Williams,  in  the  Legislature  by  grace  of  the  liquor  in 
terests  ;  next  him,  Tomlinson,  representing  certain  up- 
the-country  traction  and  power  interests ;  to  the  right 
of  the  chairman  were  Perry  and  Nottingham,  the 
creatures  of  two  railway  systems.  The  chairman — 

269 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

Kenworthy,  of  Buffalo — had  been  in  the  Assembly 
nearly  twenty  years,  for  the  insurance  interests.  He 
was  a  serious,  square-bearded,  pop-eyed  little  old  man, 
most  neat  and  respectable,  and  without  a  suspicion 
that  he  was  not  the  most  honorable  person  in  the  world, 
doing  his  full  duty  when  he  did  precisely  what  the 
great  men  bade.  Since  the  great  capitalists  were  the 
makers  and  maintainers  of  prosperity,  whatever  they 
wanted  must  be  for  the  good  of  all.  The  fact  that 
he  was  on  the  private  pay  rolls  of  five  companies  and 
got  occasional  liberal  "  retainers  "  from  seven  others, 
was  simply  the  clinching  proof  of  the  fitness  of  the 
great  men  to  direct — they  knew  how  properly  to  re 
ward  their  helpers  in  taking  care  of  the  people.  There 
are  good  men  who  are  more  dangerous  than  the  slyest 
of  the  bad.  Kenworthy  was  one  of  them. 

The  committee  did  not  know  what  it  was  assembled 
for.  It  is  not  the  habit  of  the  men  who  "  run  things  " 
to  explain  their  orders  to  understrappers.  Smelling 
committees  are  of  four  kinds :  There  is  the  committee 
the  boss  sets  at  doing  nothing  industriously  because 
the  people  are  clamoring  that  something  be  done. 
There  is  the  committee  the  boss  sends  to  "jack  up" 
some  interest  or  interests  that  have  failed  to  "  cash 
down  "  properly.  There  is  the  committee  that  is  sent 
into  doubtful  districts,  just  before  election,  to  pretend 
to  expose  the  other  side — and  sometimes,  if  there  has 
been  a  quarrel  between  the  bosses,  this  kind  of  com 
mittee  acts  almost  as  if  it  were  sincere.  Finally,  there 
is  the  committee  the  boss  sends  out  to  destroy  the  rivals 
of  his  employers  in  some  department  of  finance  or  com 
merce.  This  particular  smelling  committee  suspected 
it  was  to  have  some  of  the  shortcomings  of  the 
rivals  of  the  O.  A.  D.  put  under  its  nostrils  by  its 

270 


A    SENSATIONAL    DAY 


counsel,  Morris;  it  knew  the  late  Galloway  had  owned 
the  governor  and  the  dominant  boss,  and  that  Fos- 
dick  was  supposed  to  have  inherited  them,  along  with 
sundry  other  items  of  old  Galloway's  power.  Again, 
the  object  might  be  purely  defensive.  There  had  been, 
of  late,  a  revival  of  popular  clamor  against  insurance 
companies,  which  the  previous  investigation,  started  by 
a  quarrel  among  the  interests  and  called  off  when  that 
quarrel  was  patched  up,  had  left  unquieted.  This 
committee  might  be  simply  a  blindfold  for  the  eyes 
of  the  ass — said  ass  being  the  public  with  its  loud 
bray  and  its  long  ears  and  its  infinite  patience. 

As  Fosdick  seated  himself,  after  taking  the  oath, 
he  noted  for  the  first  time  the  look  on  all  faces — as 
if  one  exciting  act  of  a  drama  had  just  ended  and 
another  were  about  to  begin.  Out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye  he  saw  Westervelt  and  Armstrong,  seated  side 
by  side — Westervelt,  fumbling  with  his  long  white 
beard,  his  eyes  upon  the  twenty-thousand-dollar  sable 
overcoat  lying  across  Fosdick's  knees;  Armstrong, 
huge  and  stolid,  gazing  straight  at  Fosdick's  face  with 
an  expression  inscrutable  beyond  its  perfect  calm. 
"  He's  taking  his  medicine  well,"  thought  Fosdick. 
"  For  Westervelt  must  have  testified,  and  then,  of 
course,  he  had  his  turn." 

Morris,  a  few  feet  in  front  of  him,  was  busy  with 
papers  and  books  that  rustled  irritatingly  in  the  tense 
silence.  Fosdick  watched  him  tranquilly,  as  free  from 
anxiety  as  to  what  he  would  do  as  a  showman  about 
his  marionette.  Morris  straightened  himself  and  ad 
vanced  toward  Fosdick.  They  eyed  each  the  other 
steadily;  Fosdick  admired  his  servant — the  broad,  in 
telligent  brow,  the  pallor  of  the  student,  the  keen  eyes 
of  the  man  of  affairs,  the  sensitive  mouth.  The  fact 

271 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

that  he  looked  the  very  opposite  of  a  bondman,  at 
least  to  unobservant  eyes,  was  not  the  smallest  of  his 
assets  for  Fosdick. 

"  Mr.  Fosdick,"  began  the  lawyer,  in  his  rather 
high-pitched,  but  flexible  and  agreeable  tenor  voice, 
"  we  will  take  as  little  of  your  time  as  possible.  We 
know  you  are  an  exceedingly  busy  man." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Fosdick,  with  a  dignified 
bend  of  the  head.  A  very  respectable  figure  he  made, 
sitting  there  in  expensive  looking  linen  and  well  cut 
dark  suit,  the  sable  overcoat  across  his  knee  and  over 
one  arm,  a  top  hat  in  his  other  hand.  "  My  time  is 
at  your  disposal." 

"  In  examining  some  of  the  books  of  the  O.  A.  D. — 
you  are  a  director  of  the  O.  A.  D.  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  have  been  for  forty-two  years." 

"  And  very  influential  in  its  management  ?  " 

"  They  frequently  call  on  me  for  advice,  and,  as 
the  institution  is  a  philanthropy,  I  feel  it  my  duty 
always  to  respond." 

Fosdick  noted  that  a  smile,  discreet  but  unmistak 
ably  derisive,  ran  round  the  room.  Morris's  face  was 
sober,  but  the  smile  was  in  his  eyes.  Fosdick  sat  still 
straighter  and  frowned  slightly.  He  highly  disap 
proved  of  cynicism  directed  at  himself. 

"  In  looking  at  some  of  the  books  with  Mr.  Wester- 
velt  a  while  ago,"  continued  Morris,  "  we  came  upon 
a  matter — several  items — which  we  thought  ought  to 
be  explained  at  once.  We  wish  no  public  misappre 
hensions  to  arise  through  any  inadvertence  of  ours. 
So  we  have  turned  aside  from  the  regular  course  of  the 
investigation,  to  complete  the  matter." 

Fosdick's  face  betrayed  his  satisfaction — all  had 
gone  well;  Armstrong  was  in  the  trap;  it  only  re- 

272 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


mained  for  him  to  close  it.  Morris  now  took  up  a 
thin,  well-worn  account  book  which  Fosdick  recognized 
as  the  chief  of  Westervelt's  four  treasures.  "  I  find 
here,"  he  continued,  "  fourteen  entries  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  each — three  hundred  and  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars,  in  all — drawn  by  the  President  of  the 
O.  A.  D.,  Mr.  Armstrong  here.  Will  you  kindly  tell 
us  all  you  know  about  those  items  ?  " 

Mr.  Fosdick  smiled  slightly.  "  Really,  Mr.  Mor 
ris,"  replied  he,  with  the  fluency  of  the  well-rehearsed 
actor,  "  I  cannot  answer  that  question,  as  you  put  it. 
Even  if  I  knew  all  about  the  items,  I  might  not  recog 
nize  them  from  your  too  scanty  description." 

"  We  have  just  had  Mr.  Armstrong  on  the  stand," 
said  the  lawyer.  "  He  testified  that  he  drew  the  money 
under  your  direction  and  paid  it — the  most  of  it — 
in  your  presence  to  Benjamin  Sigourney,  who  looked 
after  political  matters  for  your  company." 

Fosdick's  expression  of  sheer  amazement  was  sin 
cerity  itself.  He  looked  from  Morris  to  Armstrong. 
With  his  eyes  and  Armstrong's  meeting,  he  said  ener 
getically,  "  I  know  of  no  such  transaction." 

"  You  do  not  recall  any  of  the  fourteen  transac 
tions?" 

"  I  do  not  recall  them,  because  they  never  occurred. 
So  far  as  I  know,  the  legislative  business  of  the  O.  A.D. 
is  looked  after  by  the  legal  department  exclusively. 
I  have  been  led  to  believe,  and  I  do  believe  that,  since 
the  reforms  in  the  O.  A.  D.  and  the  new  management 
of  which  Mr.  Shotwell  was  the  first  head,  the  former 
reprehensible  methods  have  been  abandoned.  It  is  im 
possible  that  Mr.  Armstrong  should  have  drawn  such 
amounts  for  that  purpose.  You  must — pardon  me — 
have  misunderstood  his  testimony." 

273 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Let  the  stenographer  read  —  only  Mr.  Arm 
strong's  last  long  reply,"  said  Morris. 

The  stenographer  read :  "  Mr.  Armstrong :  '  Mr. 
Fosdick  explained  to  me  that  the  bills  would  practi 
cally  put  us  out  of  business,  except  straight  life  poli 
cies,  and  that  they  would  pass  unless  we  submitted  to 
the  blackmail.  As  he  was  in  control  of  the  O.  A.  D., 
when  he  directed  me  to  draw  the  money,  I  did  so.  All 
but  two,  I  think,  perhaps  three,  of  the  payments  were 
made  to  Sigourney  in  his  presence.' ' 

"  That  will  do — thank  you,"  said  Morris  to  the 
stenographer. 

There  was  a  pause,  a  silence  so  profound  that 
it  seemed  a  suffocating  force.  Morris's  clear, 
sharp  tones  breaking  it,  startled  everyone,  even  Fos 
dick.  "  You  see,  Mr.  Fosdick,  Mr.  Armstrong  was 
definite." 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand,"  replied  Fosdick, 
gray  with  emotion,  but  firm  of  eye  and  voice.  "  I  am 
profoundly  shocked — I  can  only  say  that,  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  no  such  transaction  occurred.  And  I 
regret  exceedingly  to  have  to  add  that  if  any  such 
moneys  were  taken  from  the  O.  A.  D.  they  must  have 
gone  for  other  purposes  than  to  influence  the  Legis 
lature." 

"  Then,  you  wish  to  inform  the  committee  that  to 
the  best  of  your  recollection  you  did  not  authorize  or 
suggest  those  drafts,  and  did  not  and  do  not  know 
anything  about  them  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  them." 

"  But,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  continued  Morris  slowly, 
"  we  have  had  Mr.  Westervelt  on  the  stand,  and  he  has 
testified  that  he  was  present  on  more  than  half  a 
dozen  occasions  when  you  told  Mr.  Armstrong  to 

274 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


draw  the  money,  and  that  on  one  occasion  you  your 
self  took  the  money  when  Mr.  Armstrong  brought  it 
from  the  cash  department." 

Fosdick  stiffened  as  if  an  electric  shock  had  passed 
through  him.  For  the  first  time  he  lowered  his  eyes. 
Behind  that  veil,  his  brain  was  swiftly  restoring  order 
in  the  wild  confusion  which  this  exploding  bomb  had 
made.  There  was  no  time  to  consider  how  or  why  Wes- 
tervelt  had  failed  him,  or  how  Morris  had  been  stupid 
enough  to  permit  such  a  situation.  He  could  only 
make  choice  between  standing  to  the  original  pro 
gramme  and  retreating  behind  a  pretense  of  bad  mem 
ory.  "  I  can  always  plead  bad  memory,"  he  reflected. 
"  Perhaps  the  day  can  be  saved — Morris  would  have 
sent  me  a  warning  if  it  couldn't  be."  So  he  swept 
the  faces  of  the  committeemen  and  the  few  spectators 
with  a  glance  like  an  unscathed  battery.  "  I  am 
astounded,  Mr.  Morris,"  said  he  steadily.  "  In  search 
of  an  explanation,  I  happen  to  remember  that  Mr. 
Armstrong  was  recently  compelled  to  relieve  Mr.  Wes- 
tervelt  from  duty  because  of  his  failing  health — fail 
ing  faculties."  His  eyes  turned  to  Westervelt  with  an 
apologetic  look  in  them — and  Westervelt  was,  indeed, 
a  pitiful  figure,  suggesting  one  broken  and  distraught. 
Fosdick  saw  in  the  faces  of  committeemen  and  spec 
tators  that  he  had  scored  heavily.  "  I  repeat,"  said 
he  boldly,  "  it  is  impossible  that  any  such  transac 
tions  should  have  occurred." 

He  was  addressing  Morris's  back ;  the  lawyer  had 
turned  to  the  table  behind  him  and  was  examining  the 
papers  there  with  great  deliberation.  Not  a  sound  in 
the  room;  all  eyes  on  Fosdick,  who  was  quietly  wait 
ing.  "  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Morris,  wheeling  suddenly  like 
a  duelist  at  the  end  of  the  ten  paces. 

275 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

Fosdick  startled  at  the  explosive  note  in  his  ser 
vant's  voice,  then  instantly  recovered  himself. 

"  This  letter — is  it  in  your  handwriting?  "  Fos 
dick  took  the  extended  paper,  put  on  his  nose-glasses, 
and  calmly  fixed  his  eyes  upon  it.  His  hand  began  to 
shake,  over  his  face  a  dreadful,  unsteady  pallor,  as 
if  the  flame  of  life,  sick  and  dying,  were  flaring  and 
sinking  in  the  last  flickerings  before  the  final  going- 
out. 

"  Is  it  your  writing  ?  "  repeated  Morris,  his  voice 
like  the  bay  of  the  hound  before  the  cornered  fox. 

Fosdick's  hand  dropped  to  his  lap.  His  eyes 
sought  Morris's  face  and  from  them  blazed  such  a 
blast  of  fury  that  Morris  drew  back  a  step. 

Morris  was  daunted  only  for  a  second.  He  said 
evenly,  "  It  is  your  handwriting,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Fosdick  looked  round — at  Westervelt,  whose  wrin 
kled  hand  had  paused  on  his  beard  midway  between  its 
yellowed  end  and  his  shrunken,  waxen  face ;  at  Arm 
strong,  stolid,  statuelike ;  at  the  reporters,  with  pen 
cils  suspended  and  eyes  glistening.  He  drew  a  long 
breath  and  straightened  himself  again.  "  It  is,"  he 
said. 

Morris  extended  his  hand  for  the  letter.  "  Thank 
you,"  he  said  with  grave  courtesy,  as  Fosdick  gave  it 
to  him.  "I  will  read— <  Dear  Bill— Tell  A  to  draw 
three  times  this  week — the  usual  amounts  and  give 
them  to  S.'  Bill — that  is  Mr.  Westervelt,  is  it  not? 
And  does  not  A  stand  for  Armstrong?  And  is  not  S, 
Sigourney,  at  that  time  the  O.  A.  D.'s  representative 
in  legislative  and  general  political  matters  ?  " 

"  Obviously,"  said  Fosdick,  promptly  and  easily. 
"  I  see  my  memory  has  played  me  a  disgraceful  trick. 
I  am  getting  old."  He  smiled  benevolently  at  Morris, 

276 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


then  toward  Westervelt.  "  I,  too,  am  losing  my  facul 
ties."  Then,  looking  at  Armstrong,  and  not  changing 
from  kindly  smile  and  tone,  "  But  my  teeth  are  still 
good." 

"  You  now  remember  these  transactions  ?  " 

"  I  do  not.  But  I  frankly  admit  I  must  have  been 
mistaken  in  denying  that  they  ever  occurred." 

"  I  trust,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  Morris,  "  your  mem 
ory  will  not  fail  you  to  the  extent  that  you  will  for 
get  you  are  on  oath." 

The  muscles  in  Fosdick's  spare  jaws  could  be  seen 
working  violently.  Morris  was  going  too  far,  entirely 
too  far,  in  realism  for  the  benefit  of  the  public.  "  Is 
it  part  of  your  privilege  as  examiner,"  said  he,  with 
more  than  a  suggestion  of  master-to-servant,  "  to  in 
sult  an  old  man  upon  his  failing  mind  ?  " 

"  As  none  of  these  transactions  was  of  older  date 
than  three  years  ago,"  replied  Morris  coldly,  "  and 
as  the  note  bore  date  of  only  six  months  ago — the 
week  before  Sigourney  died — it  was  not  unnatural  that 
I  should  be  anxious  about  your  testimony.  We  do 
not  wish  false  ideas,  detrimental  to  the  standing  of 
so  notable  and  reputable  a  man  as  yourself,  to  get 
abroad." 

A  titter  ran  around  the  room;  Fosdick  flushed  and 
the  storm  veins  in  his  temples  swelled.  He  evidently 
thought  his  examination  was  over,  for  he  took  a  bet 
ter  hold  on  his  coat  and  was  rising  from  the  chair. 
"  Just  a  few  minutes  more,"  said  Morris.  "  In  the 
course  of  Mr.  Westervelt's  testimony  another  mat 
ter  was  accidentally  touched  on.  We  feel  that  it 
should  not  go  out  to  the  public  without  your  expla 
nation." 

Fosdick  sank  back.  Until  now,  he  had  been  assum- 
277 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 


ing  that  by  some  accident  his  plan  to  destroy  Arm 
strong  had  miscarried,  that  Morris  and  Westervelt, 
to  save  the  day,  had  by  some  mischance  been  forced 
into  a  position  where  they  were  compelled  to  involve 
him.  But  now,  it  came  to  him  that  Morris's  icily 
sarcastic  tone  was  more,  far  more,  arrogant  and 
insolent  than  could  possibly  be  necessary  for  ap 
pearances  with  the  public.  The  lawyer's  next  words 
changed  suspicion  into  certainty.  "  We  found  several 
other  items,  Mr.  Fosdick,  which  we  requested  Mr.  Wes 
tervelt  to  explain — payments  of  large  sums  to  your 
representatives — so  Mr.  Westervelt  testifies  they  are — • 
and  to  your  secretary,  Mr.  Waller,  and  to  your  son 
— Hugo  Fosdick.  He  is  one  of  the  four  vice-presi 
dents  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  is  he  not?  " 

"  He  is,"  said  Fosdick,  and  his  voice  was  that  of 
a  sick  old  man. 

"  It  was  on  your  O.  K.  that  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  were  paid  out  to  furnish  his  apartment  ?  " 

"  You  mean  the  uptown  branch  of  the  O.  A.  D.  ?  " 
said  Fosdick  wearily,  his  blue-black  eyelids  drooped. 

"  Oh !  We  will  inquire  into  that,  later.  But — take 
last  year,  Mr.  Fosdick.  Take  this  omnibus  lease,  turn 
ing  over  to  corporations  you  control  properties  in 
Boston  and  Chicago  which  cost  the  O.  A.  D.  a  sum, 
two  per  cent,  interest  on  which  would  be  double  the 
rental  they  are  getting  from  you.  Mr.  Westervelt  in 
forms  us  that  he  knows  you  get  seventeen  times  the 
income  from  the  properties  that  you  pay  the  O.  A.  D. 
under  the  leases  they  executed  to  you — you  practi 
cally  making  the  leases,  as  an  officer  of  the  company, 
to  yourself  as  another  corporation.  My  question  is 
somewhat  involved,  but  I  hope  it  is  clear  ?  " 

"  I  understand  you — in  the  main,"  replied  Fosdick. 
278 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


"  But  you  will  have  to  excuse  me  from  answering  any 
more  questions  to-day.  I  did  not  come  prepared.  My 
connection  with  the  O.  A.  D.  has  been  philanthropic, 
rather  than  businesslike.  Naturally,  though  perhaps 
wrongly,  I  have  not  kept  myself  informed  of  all  de 
tails." 

He  frowned  down  the  smiles,  the  beginnings  of 
laughter.  "  But  the  record  is  sound !  "  he  went  on  in 
a  ringing  voice.  "  The  O.  A.  D.  has  cost  me  much 
time  and  thought.  I  have  given  more  of  both  to  it 
than  I  have  to  purely  commercial  enterprises.  But 
moneymaking  isn't  everything — and  I  feel  more  than 
rewarded." 

"  We  all  know  you,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  Morris, 
with  an  air  of  satiric  respect. 

"  I  ask  you  to  excuse  me  to-day,"  continued  the 
old  man,  in  his  impressive  manner.  "  I  wish  to  prepare 
myself.  To-morrow,  or,  at  most,  in  two  or  three  days, 
I  shall  demand  that  you  let  me  resume  the  stand.  I 
have  nothing  to  conceal.  Errors  of  judgment  I  may 
have  committed.  But  my  record  is  clear."  He  raised 
his  head  and  his  eyes  flashed.  "  It  is  a  record  with 
which  I  shall  soon  fearlessly  face  my  God !  " 

Josiah  Fosdick  felt  that  he  was  himself  again.  His 
eyes  looked  out  with  the  expression  of  a  good  man 
standing  his  ground  unafraid.  And  he  smiled  con 
temptuously  at  the  faint  sarcasm  in  Morris's  cold 
voice,  saying,  "  That  is  quite  satisfactory — most  sat 
isfactory." 

The  committee  rose;  the  reporters  surrounded  Fos 
dick.  He  was  courteous  but  firm  in  his  refusal  to  say 
a  word  either  as  to  the  testimony  he  had  given  or 
as  to  that  he  would  give.  A  dozen  eager  hands  helped 
him  on  with  his  coat,  and  he  marched  away,  sure  that 

279 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

he  was  completely  reestablished — in  the  public  esteem; 
his  self-esteem  had  not  been  shaken  for  an  instant. 
The  good  man  doubts  himself;  not  the  self -deceiving 
hypocrite.  There  was  triumph  in  the  long  look  he 
gave  Morris — a  look  which  Morris  returned  with  the 
tranquil  shine  of  a  satisfied  revenge,  a  revenge  of  pay 
ment  with  interest  for  slights,  humiliations,  insults 
which  the  old  tyrant  had  put  upon  him.  Long  traf 
ficking  upon  the  cupidity  and  timidity  of  men  gives 
the  ruling  class  a  false  notion  of  the  discernment  of 
mankind  and  of  their  own  mental  superiority,  as  well 
as  moral.  It  was  natural  that  Fosdick  should  believe 
himself  above  censure,  above  criticism  even.  He  re 
turned  to  his  office,  like  a  king  upon  whom  the  vulgar 
have  sought  to  put  indignities.  His  teeth  fairly 
ached  for  the  moment  when  they  could  close  upon  the 
bones  of  these  "  insolent  curs." 

It  was  not  until  he  set  out  for  lunch  that  another 
view  of  the  situation  came  in  sight.  As  he  was  cross 
ing  Waller's  office,  he  was  halted  by  that  faithful  ser 
vant's  expression,  the  more  impressive  because  it  was 
persisting  in  spite  of  hysterical  efforts  to  conceal  it 
and  to  look  serenely  worshipful  as  usual.  "  What  is 
it,  Waller?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Nothing — nothing  at  all,  sir,"  said  Waller,  as 
with  a  clumsy  effort  at  pretended  carelessness  he  tossed 
into  the  wastebasket  a  newspaper  which  Fosdick  had 
surprised  him  at  reading. 

"  Is  that  an  afternoon  paper?  " 

Waller  stammered  inarticulately. 

Fosdick  shot  a  quick,  sharp  glance  at  him.  "  Let 
me  see  it." 

Waller  took  the  paper  out  of  the  basket,  as  if 
he  were  handling  something  vile  to  sight,  touch  and 

280 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


smell.  "  These  sensational  sheets  are  very  impu 
dent  and  untruthful,"  he  said,  as  he  gave  it  to  his 
master. 

Fosdick  spread  the  paper.  He  sprang  back  as  if 
he  had  been  struck.  "  God ! "  he  cried.  "  God  in 
heaven ! " 

In  the  committee  room,  after  the  first  unpleas 
antness,  all  had  been  smooth,  and  there  was  not  to 
his  self-complacent  security  of  the  divine  right  mon 
arch  the  remotest  suggestion  of  impending  disgrace. 
Now — from  the  front  page  of  this  newspaper,  fly 
ing  broadcast  through  the  city,  through  the  country, 
shrieked,  "Fosdick  Perjures  Himself!  The  eminent 
financier  and  churchman  caught  on  the  witness  stand. 
Denies  knowledge  of  political  bribery  funds  and  is 
trapped!  Evades  accusations  of  gigantic  swindles  and 
thefts." 

Disgrace,  like  all  the  other  strong  tragic  words, 
conveys  little  of  its  real  meaning  to  anyone  until  it 
becomes  personal.  Fosdick  would  have  said  before 
hand  that  the  publication  of  an  attack  on  him  in  the 
low  newspapers  would  not  trouble  him  so  much  as  the 
buzzing  of  a  fly  about  his  bald  spot.  He  would  have 
said  that  there  was  in  him — in  his  conscience,  in  his 
confidence  in  the  approval  of  his  God — a  tower  of 
righteous  strength  that  would  stand  against  any  at 
tack,  as  unimperiled  as  a  skyscraper  by  a  summer 
breeze.  But,  with  these  huge,  coarse  voices  of  the  all- 
pervading  press  shrieking  and  screaming  "Perjurer! 
Swindler !  Thief !  "  he  shook  as  with  the  ague  and 
turned  gray  and  groaned.  He  sat  down  that  he  might 
not  fall. 

"  God !     God  in  heaven  !  "  he  muttered. 

"  It's  infamous,"  cried  Waller,  tears  in  his  eyes  and 
19  281 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

anger  in  his  voice.  "  No  man,  no  matter  how  upright 
or  high,  is  safe  from  those  wretches." 

Fosdick  gripped  his  head  between  his  hands.  "  It 
hurts,  Waller — it  hurts,"  he  moaned. 

"  Nobody  will  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  it," 
said  Waller.  "  We  all  know  you." 

But  Fosdick  was  not  listening.  He  was  wondering 
how  he  had  been  able  to  delude  himself,  how  he  had 
failed  to  realize  the  construction  that  could,  and  by 
the  public  would,  be  put  upon  his  testimony.  Many's 
the  thing  that  sounds  and  looks  and  seems  right  and 
proper  in  privacy  and  before  a  few  sympathetic  wit 
nesses,  and  that  shudders  in  the  full  livery  of  shame 
when  exposed  before  the  world.  Here  was  an  instance 
— and  he,  the  shrewd,  the  lifelong  dealer  in  public 
opinion,  had  been  tricked  at  his  own  trade  as  he  had 
never  been  able  to  trick  anyone  else  in  half  a  century 
of  chicane. 

"  I  want  to  die,  Waller,"  he  said  feebly.  "  Help 
me  back  into  my  office.  I  can't  face  anybody." 

Into  Armstrong's  sitting  room,  toward  ten  that 
night,  Fosdick  came  limping  and  shuffling.  Even  had 
Armstrong  been  a  "  good  hater  "  he  could  hardly  have 
withstood  the  pathos  of  that  abject  figure.  Being  too 
broadly  intelligent  for  more  than  a  spasm  of  that 
ugliest  and  most  ignorant  of  passions,  he  felt  as  if 
the  broken  man  before  him  were  the  wronged  and  he 
himself  the  wronger.  "  But  this  man  made  a  shame 
ful,  treacherous,  unprovoked  attempt  to  disgrace  me," 
he  reminded  himself,  in  the  effort  to  keep  a  just  point 
of  view  for  prudence's  sake.  It  was  useless.  That 
ghastly,  sunken  face,  those  frightened,  dim  old  eyes, 
the  trembling  step —  If  a  long  life  of  soul-prostitu- 

282 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


tion  had  left  Josiah  Fosdick  enough  of  natural  human 
generosity  to  appreciate  the  meaning  of  Armstrong's 
expression,  he  might  have  been  able  to  change  his 
crushing  defeat  into  what  in  the  circumstances  would 
have  been  the  triumph  of  a  drawn  battle.  But,  except 
possibly  the  creative  geniuses,  men  must  measure  their 
fellows  throughout  by  themselves.  Fosdick  knew  what 
he  would  do,  were  he  in  Armstrong's  place.  He 
clutched  at  Armstrong's  hand  with  a  cringing  hypocrisy 
of  deference  that  made  Armstrong  ashamed  for  him — 
and  that  warned  him  he  dared  not  yet  drop  his  guard. 

"  I've  been  trying  to  get  you  since  three  o'clock 
this  afternoon,"  said  Fosdick.  "  I  had  to  see  you  be 
fore  I  went  to  bed."  He  sank  into  a  chair  and  sat 
breathing  heavily.  He  looked  horribly  old.  "  You 
don't  believe  I  deliberately  lied  about  that  money,  do 
you,  Horace  ?  " 

"Is  it  necessary  to  discuss  that,  Mr.  Fosdick? 
Hadn't  we  better  get  right  at  what  you've  come  to 
see  me  about  ?  " 

"  I've  wired  the  governor.  He  don't  answer. 
Morris  refuses  to  see  me.  Westervelt — it's  useless  to 
see  him — he  has  betrayed  me — sold  me  out — he  on 
whom  I  have  showered  a  thousand  benefits.  I  made 
that  man,  Horace,  and  he  has  rewarded  me.  That's 
human  nature !  " 

Armstrong  recalled  that,  when  he  was  winning  over 
Westervelt  by  convincing  him  of  Fosdick's  perfidy  to 
him,  Westervelt  had  made  the  same  remark,  had  cried 
out  that  he  loaned  Fosdick  the  first  five  hundred  dol 
lars  he  ever  possessed  and  had  got  him  into  the  O.A.D. 
"  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Fosdick,  that  recriminations 
are  idle,"  said  he.  "  I  assume  you  have  something  to 
ask  or  to  propose.  Am  I  right?" 

283 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

"  Horace,  you  and  I  are  naturally  friends.  Why 
should  we  fight  each  other  ?  " 

"  You  have  come  to  propose  a  peace  ?  " 

"  I  want  us  to  continue  to  work  together." 

"  That  can  be  arranged,"  said  Armstrong. 

"  I  hoped  so !  "  Fosdick  exclaimed.     "  I  hoped  so !  " 

"  But,"  proceeded  Armstrong,  seeing  the  drift  of 
the  thought  behind  that  quick  elation,  "  let  us  have  no 
misunderstanding.  You  were  permitted  to  leave  the 
witness  stand  when  you  did  to-day  because  I  wished 
you  to  have  one  more  chance  to  save  yourself.  That 
chance  will  be  withdrawn  if  you  begin  to  act  on  the 
notion  that  my  forbearance  is  proof  of  my  weakness." 

"  All  I  want  is  peace — peace  and  quiet,"  said  Fos 
dick,  with  his  new  revived  hope  and  craft  better  hid. 
But  Armstrong  saw  that  it  was  temperamentally  im 
possible  for  Fosdick  to  believe  any  man  would  of  his 
own  accord  drop  the  sword  from  the  throat  of  a 
beaten  foe. 

"  You  can  have  peace,"  continued  Armstrong, 
"peace  with  honor,  provided  you  give  a  guarantee. 
You  cannot  expect  me  to  trust  you." 

"  What  guarantee  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Control  of  the  O.  A.  D." 

Fosdick's  feebleness  fell  from  him.  He  sprang 
erect,  eyes  flashing,  fists  shaking.  "  Never ! "  he 
shouted.  "  So  help  me  God,  never !  It's  mine.  It's 
part  of  my  children's  patrimony.  I'll  keep  it,  in  spite 
of  hell!" 

"  You  will  lose  it  in  any  event,"  said  Armstrong, 
as  calm  as  Fosdick  was  tempestuous.  "  You  have 
choice  of  turning  it  over  to  me  or  having  it  snatched 
from  you  by  Atwater  and  Trafford  and  Langdon." 

"  Atwater !  "  exclaimed  Fosdick. 
284 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


"  When  I  found  you  had  arranged  to  destroy  me," 
explained  Armstrong,  "  I  formed  a  counter-arrange 
ment,  as  I  wasn't  strong  enough  to  fight  you  alone." 

"  You  sold  me  out !  " 

Armstrong  winced.  Fosdick's  phrase  was  unjust, 
but  since  his  talk  with  Neva  he  was  critical  and  sen 
sitive  in  the  matter  of  self-respect ;  and,  while  his  cam 
paign  of  self-defense,  of  "  fighting  the  devil  with  fire," 
still  seemed  necessary  and  legitimate,  it  also  seemed 
lacking  in  courage.  If  Fosdick  had  crept  and  crawled 
up  on  him,  had  he  not  also  crawled  and  crept  up  on 
Fosdick  ?  "  I  defended  myself  in  the  only  way  you 
left  me,"  replied  Armstrong.  "  I  formed  an  alliance 
with  the  one  man  who  could  successfully  attack  you." 

"  So,  it  is  Atwater  who  has  bought  the  governor — 
and  Morris — yes,  and  that  ingrate,  Westervelt !  " 

"  However  that  may  be,"  replied  Armstrong,  "  you 
will  be  destroyed  and  Atwater  will  take  the  O.  A.  D. 
unless  you  meet  my  terms."  He  was  flushing  deep 
red  before  Fosdick's  look  of  recognition  of  a  brother 
in  chicane. 

He  knew  Atwater  was  simply  using  him,  would  de 
stroy  him  or  reduce  him  to  dependence,  as  soon  as 
Fosdick  was  stripped  and  ruined.  He  felt  he  was  as 
fully  justified  in  eluding  the  tiger  by  strategy  as  he 
had  been  in  procuring  the  tiger  to  defeat  and  destroy 
the  lion  that  had  been  about  to  devour  him.  Still, 
the  business  was  not  one  a  man  would  preen  himself 
upon  in  a  company  of  honest  men  and  women.  And 
Fosdick' s  look,  which  said,  "  This  man,  having  sold  me 
out,  is  now  about  to  sell  out  his  allies,"  hit  home  and 
hit  hard. 

But  he  must  carry  his  project  through,  or  fall 
victim  to  Atwater;  he  must  not  let  this  melting  mood 

285 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

which  Neva  had  brought  about  enfeeble  his  judgment 
and  disarm  his  courage.  "  If  you  refuse  my  offer," 
he  said  to  Fosdick,  "  the  investigation  will  go  on,  and 
Atwater  will  get  the  O.  A.  D.  and  take  from  you  every 
shred  of  your  character  and  much  of  your  fortune — 
perhaps  all.  If  you  accept  my  offer,  the  investiga 
tion  will  stop  and  you  will  retire  from  the  O.  A.  D. 
peaceably  and  without  having  to  face  proceedings  to 
compel  you  to  make  restitution." 

"  How  do  I  know  you  can  keep  your  bargain  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  governor  and  Morris  with  me,"  re 
plied  Armstrong,  frankly  exposing  his  whole  hand. 
"  They,  no  more  than  myself,  wish  to  become  the  pup 
pets  of  the  Atwater-Langdon-Trafford  crowd." 

Fosdick  reflected.  Now  that  he  knew  the  precise 
situation,  he  felt  less  feeble.  Before  Armstrong  ex 
plained,  he  had  been  like  a  man  fighting  in  a  pitch  dark 
room  against  foes  he  could  not  even  number.  Now, 
the  light  was  on;  he  knew  just  how  many,  just  who 
they  were ;  and,  appalling  though  the  discovery  was,  it 
was  not  so  appalling  as  that  struggle  in  the  pitch 
dark.  "  You  evidently  think  I'm  powerless,"  he  said 
at  last.  "  But  if  you  press  me  too  far,  you  will  see 
that  I  am  not.  For  instance,  you  need  me.  You  must 
have  me  or  fall  into  Atwater's  clutches.  You  see,  I 
am  far  from  powerless." 

66  But  you  forget,"  replied  Armstrong,  "  you  are 
heavily  handicapped  by  your  reputation.  A  man  who 
has  to  fight  for  his  good  name  is  like  a  soldier  in 
battle  with  a  baby  on  his  arm  and  a  woman  clinging 
to  his  neck.  How  can  you  fight  without  losing  your 
reputation?  The  committee  is  against  you.  At  Mon 
day's  session,  if  you  let  matters  take  their  course,  all 
that  Westervelt's  books  show  of  your  profits  from  the 

286 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


O.  A.  D.  will  be  exposed — even  the  way  you  made  it 
pay  for  the  carpets  on  your  floors,  for  the  sheets  on 
your  beds,  for  towels  and  soap  and  matches." 

Armstrong  would  not  have  believed  there  was  in 
Fosdick's  whole  body  so  much  red  blood  as  showed  in 
his  face.  "  It's  a  custom  that's  grown  up,"  he  mut 
tered  shufflingly.  "  They  all  do  it — in  every  big  com 
pany,  more  or  less,  directly  or  indirectly." 

"  True  enough,"  said  Armstrong.  "  But  you'll  be 
the  only  one  on  trial.  If  you  accept  my  offer,  you'll 
be  let  alone.  Cancel  the  worst  of  those  leases,  settle 
the  ugliest  accounts,  all  at  comparatively  trifling  cost, 
and  the  public  will  soon  forget." 

"  And  what  guarantee  do  you  give  that  the  agree 
ment  would  be  carried  out  ?  " 

"  My  pledge — that's  all,"  replied  Armstrong — and 
again  he  flushed.  He  had  avoided  specifically  giving 
his  word  to  the  Atwater  crowd  when  he  formed  al 
liance  with  them ;  still,  his  "  my  pledge  "  had  a  hol 
low,  jeering  echo.  "  It's  the  only  possible  guarantee 
in  the  circumstances — and,  as  you  are  solely  respon 
sible  for  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Fosdick,  I  do  not  see 
how  you  can  complain." 

Fosdick  again  reflected;  the  awful,  deathly  pallor, 
the  deep  seams,  the  palsylike  trembling  came  back. 
After  a  long  wait,  with  Armstrong  avoiding  the  sight 
of  him,  he  quavered,  "  Horace,  I'll  agree  to  anything 
except  giving  up  the  O.  A.  D."  There  he  broke  down 
and  wept.  "  You  don't  know  what  that  institution 
means  to  me.  It's  my  child.  It's  my  heart.  It's  my 
reason  for  being  alive." 

'  Yes,  it  has  been  a  source  of  enormous  profit  to 
you,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  Armstrong  calmly,  for  his 
own  strengthening  more  than  to  get  Fosdick  back  to 

287 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

facts.  "  I  appreciate  how  hard  it  must  be  to  give  up 
such  a  source  of  easy  wealth.  But  it  must  be  done." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  mourned  the  old  man. 
"  You  have  no  sentiment.  YOM  do  not  -feel  those  hun 
dreds  of  thousands,  those  millions  of  helpless  people 
— how  they  look  up  to  me,  how  they  pray  for  me 
and  are  full  of  gratitude  to  me.  Do  you  think  I  could 
coldly  turn  over  their  interests  to  strangers?  Why, 
who  knows  what  might  not  be  done  with  those  sacred 
trust  funds?" 

"  If  you  persist  in  letting  Atwater  get  control," 
said  Armstrong,  "  I  fear  those  sacred  trust  funds  will 
soon  be  larger  by  about  two  thirds  of  what  you  re 
gard  as  your  private  fortune.  I  do  not  like  to  say 
these  things ;  you  compel  me,  Mr.  Fosdick.  It  is  waste 
of  time  and  breath  to  cant  to  me." 

If  Fosdick  had  had  anything  less  at  stake  than 
his  fortune,  he  would  have  broken  then  and  there  with 
Armstrong.  As  it  was,  his  prudence  could  not 
smother  down  the  geyser  of  fury  that  boiled  and 
spouted  up  from  his  vanity.  "  I  must  be  mad,"  he 
cried,  "  to  imagine  that  such  matters  of  conscience 
would  make  an  impression  on  you." 

Armstrong  laughed  slightly.  "  When  a  man  is  in 
the  jungle,  is  fighting  with  wild  beasts,  he  has  to  put 
forward  the  beast  in  him.  You  tried  to  ruin  me — a 
more  infamous,  causeless  attack  never  was  made  on  a 
man.  You  have  failed;  you  are  in  the  pit  you  dug 
for  me.  I  am  letting  you  off  lightly."  And  now 
Armstrong's  blue  eyes  had  the  green  gray  of  steel 
and  flashed  with  that  furious  temper  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  learn  to  rule  because,  once  beyond  con 
trol,  it  would  have  been  a  free  force  of  sheer  de 
struction.  "  If  you  had  not  been  interceded  for,  you 

288 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


would  now  be  a  pariah,  with  no  wealth  to  buy  you  the 
semblance  of  respect.  Don't  try  me  too  far !  I  do  not 
love  you.  I  have  the  normal  instinct  about  reptiles." 

At  that  very  moment  Fosdick  was  looking  the 
reptile.  "  Yes,  I  did  try  to  tear  you  down,"  he  hissed. 
"  And  I'll  tell  you  why.  Because  I  saw  your  ambition 
— saw  you  would  never  rest  until  you  had  robbed  me 
and  mine  of  that  which  you  coveted.  Was  I  not 
right?" 

Armstrong  could  not  deny  it.  He  had  never  defi 
nitely  formed  such  an  ambition ;  but  he  realized,  as 
Fosdick  was  accusing  him,  that  had  he  been  permitted 
to  go  peacefully  on  as  president,  the  day  would  have 
come  when  he  would  have  reached  out  for  real  power. 

Fosdick  went  on,  with  more  repression  and  dignity, 
but  no  less  energy  of  feeling,  "  I  cannot  but  believe 
that  God  in  His  justice  will  yet  hurl  you  to  ruin.  You 
are  robbing  me,  but  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God,  Horace 
Armstrong,  He  will  bring  you  low !  " 

Well  as  Armstrong  knew  him,  he  was  for  the  mo 
ment  impressed.  The  only  born  monsters  are  the  in 
sane  criminals ;  the  monstrous  among  our  powerful  and 
eminent  and  most  respectable  are  by  long  and  delib 
erate  indulgence  in  self-deception  manufactured  into 
monsters,  protected  from  public  exposure  by  their 
position,  we«]th,  and  respectability.  We  do  not  realize 
any  more  than  they  do  themselves,  that  they  have  be 
come  insane  criminals  like  the  monsters-born.  There 
is  a  majesty  in  the  trappings  of  virtue  that  does  not 
altogether  leave  them  even  when  a  hypocrite  wears 
them;  also,  Armstrong  was  more  than  half  disarmed 
by  his  new-sprung  doubts  whether  he  was  wholly  justi 
fied  in  meeting  treachery  with  treachery.  He  sur 
prised  Fosdick  by  breaking  the  silence  with  an  almost 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

deprecating,  "  I  said  more  than  I  intended.  What  you 
have  done,  what  I  have  done,  is  all  part  of  the  game. 
Let  us  continue  to  leave  God  and  morals — honesty  and 
honor — out  of  it.  Let  us  be  practical,  businesslike. 
You  wish  to  save  your  reputation  and  your  fortune. 
I  can  save  them  for  you.  I  have  given  you  my  condi 
tion — it  is  the  least  I  will  ask,  or  can  ask.  What  do 
you  say?  " 

"  I  must  have  time  to  think  it  over,"  replied  Fos- 
dick.  "  I  cannot  decide  so  important  a  matter  in 
haste." 

"  Quite  right,"  Armstrong  readily  assented.  "  It 
will  not  be  necessary  to  have  your  decision  before  noon 
to-morrow.  The  committee  has  adjourned  until  Mon 
day.  That  will  give  us  half  of  Saturday  and  Sunday 
to  settle  the  plans  that  hang  on  your  decision." 

"  To-morrow  noon,"  said  Fosdick,  sunk  into  a 
stupor.  "  To-morrow  noon."  And  he  moved  vaguely 
to  the  door,  one  trembling  hand  out  before  him  as 
if  he  were  blind  and  feeling  his  way.  And,  so  all- 
powerful  are  appearances  with  us,  Armstrong  hung 
his  head  and  did  not  dare  look  at  the  pitiful  spectacle 
of  age  and  feebleness  and  misery.  "  He's  a  villain," 
said  the  young  man  to  himself,  "  as  nearly  a  through- 
and-through  villain  as  walks  the  earth.  But  he's  still 
a  man,  with  a  heart  and  pride  and  the  power  to  suf 
fer.  And  what  am  I  that  I  should  judge  him?  In 
his  place,  with  his  chances,  would  I  have  been  any 
different  ?  Was  I  not  hell-bent  by  the  same  route  ? 
Ami  not,  still?" 

He  walked  beside  Fosdick  to  the  elevator,  waited 
with  him  for  the  car.  "  Good  night,"  he  said  in  a 
tone  of  gentlest  courtesy.  And  it  hurt  him  that  the 
old  man  did  not  seem  to  hear,  did  not  respond.  He 

290 


A    SENSATIONAL   DAY 


wished  that  Fosdick  had  offered  to  shake  hands  with 
him. 

He  went  to  Morris,  expecting  him  at  a  club  across 
the  way,  and  related  the  substance  of  the  interview. 
Morris,  who  had  both  imagination  and  sensibility, 
guessed  the  cause  of  his  obvious  yet  apparently  un 
provoked  depression,  guessed  why  he  had  been  so  ten 
der  with  Fosdick.  Nevertheless  he  twitted  him  on  his 
sof t-heartedness :  "  The  old  bunco-steerer  hasn't  dis 
gorged  yet,  has  he? — and  hasn't  the  remotest  inten 
tion  of  disgorging.  So,  my  tears  are  altogether  for 
the  policy  holders  he  has  been  milking  these  forty 
years."  Then  he  added,  "  Though,  why  careless  damn 
fools  should  get  any  sympathy  in  their  misfortunes 
does  not  clearly  appear.  As  between  knaves  and  fools, 
I  incline  toward  knaves.  At  least,  they  are  teachers 
of  wisdom  in  the  school  of  experience,  while  fools 
avail  nothing,  are  simply  provokers  and  purveyors  to 
knavery." 


291 


XXII 

A    DUEL    AFTER    LUNCH 

IN  the  respectable  morning  newspaper  the  Fosdicks 
took  in,  the  facts  of  Josiah's  latest  public  appearance 
were  presented  with  those  judicious  omissions  and 
modifications  which  the  respectable  editor  feels  it  his 
duty  to  make,  that  the  lower  classes  may  not  be  led 
to  distrust  and  deride  the  upper  classes.  Thus,  Amy, 
glancing  at  headlines  in  search  of  the  only  important 
news — the  doings  of  "  our  set  " — got  the  impression 
that  her  father  had  had  an  annoying  lapse  of  memory 
in  testifying  about  something  or  other  before  some 
body  or  other.  But  the  servants  took  in  a  newspaper 
that  had  no  mission  to  safeguard  the  name  and  fame 
and  influence  of  the  upper  classes ;  probably  not  by 
chance,  this  newspaper  was  left  where  its  vulgar  but 
vivid  headlines  caught  her  eye. 

She  read,  punctuating  each  paragraph  with  explo 
sions  of  indignation.  But  when  she  had  finished,  she 
reread — and  began  to  think.  As  most  of  us  have 
learned  by  experience  in  great  matters  or  small,  truth 
is  rubberlike — it  offers  small  resistance  to  the  blows  of 
prejudice,  and,  as  soon  as  the  blow  passes,  it  straight 
way  springs  back  to  its  original  form  and  place.  Amy 
downfaced  a  thousand  little  facts  of  her  own  knowl 
edge  as  to  where  the  money  came  from — facts  which 
tried  to  tell  her  that  the  "  low,  lying  sheet  "  had  re- 

292 


A    DUEL   AFTER    LUNCH 

vealed  only  a  trifling  part  of  the  truth.  But,  when 
she  saw  her  father,  saw  how  he  had  suddenly  broken, 
his  very  voice  emasculate  and  thin,  she  gave  up  the 
struggle  to  deceive  herself.  There  is  a  notion  that 
a  man's  family  is  the  last  to  believe  the  disagreeable 
truth  about  his  relations  with  the  outside  world.  This 
is  part  of  the  theory  that  a  man  has  two  characters, 
that  he  can  be  a  saint  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning 
and  a  scoundrel  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  that  he 
is  honest  at  a  certain  street  and  number  and  a  liar  and 
a  thief  at  another  street  and  number.  But  the  fact 
is  that  character  is  the  most  closely  woven  and  homo 
geneous  of  fabrics,  and,  though  a  man's  family  do  not 
admit  it  publicly  when  the  truth  about  him  is  exposed, 
they  know  him  all  the  time  for  what  he  really  is. 
Amy  knew ;  her  father's  appearance,  indicating  not 
that  he  was  guilty  but  that  he  was  found  out  and  was 
in  an  agony  of  dread  of  the  consequences,  threw  her 
into  a  hysteria  of  shame  and  terror.  She  avoided  the 
servants ;  she  startled  each  time  the  door  bell  rang ;  it 
might  mean  the  bursting  of  the  real  disgrace,  for,  in 
her  ignorance  of  political  conditions,  she  assumed  that 
arrest  and  imprisonment  would  follow  the  detection  of 
her  father  and  probably  Hugo  in  grave  crimes.  She 
dared  not  face  any  of  the  few  that  called;  she  would 
not  even  see  Hugo. 

On  Sunday  morning  came  a  note  from  Alois — a 
love  letter,  begging  to  see  her.  She  read  it  with  tears 
flowing  and  with  a  heart  swelling  with  gratitude.  "  He 
does  love  me !  "  she  said.  "  He  must  know  we  are  about 
to  be  disgraced,  yet  he  has  only  been  strengthened  in 
his  love."  Though  the  actual  state  of  the  family's 
affairs  was  vastly  different  from  what  she  imagined, 
though  she  would  have  been  little  disturbed  had  she 

293 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

known  that  publicity  was  the  only  punishment  likely 
to  overtake  persons  so  respectable  as  Fosdick  and  his 
son,  still  the  crisis  was  none  the  less  real  to  Amy.  In 
such  crises  the  best  qualities  of  human  nature  rise  in 
all  their  grandeur  and  exert  all  their  power.  She  sent 
off  an  immediate  answer — "  Thank  you,  Alois — I  need 
you —  Come  at  three  o'clock.  Yours,  Amy." 

When  he  came,  she  let  him  see  what  she  wanted ; 
how,  with  all  she  had  valued  and  had  thought  valuable 
transforming  into  trash  and  slipping  away  from  her, 
she  had  turned  to  him,  to  the  only  reality — to  the  love 
that  welcomes  the  storm  which  gives  it  the  opportunity 
to  show  how  strong  it  is,  how  firmly  rooted.  With 
his  first  stammering,  ardent  protestations,  she  flung 
herself  into  his  arms.  "  I  have  loved  you  from  the 
beginning,"  she  sobbed.  "  But  I  didn't  realize  it  until 
I  looked  round  for  some  one  to  turn  to.  You  do  love 
me?" 

"  I  am  here,"  he  said  simply,  and  there  is  nothing 
finer  than  was  the  look  in  his  eyes,  the  feeling  in  his 
heart.  "  And  we  must  be  married  soon.  We  must  be 
together,  now." 

"  Yes,  yes — soon — at  once,"  she  agreed.  "  And 
you  will  take  me  away,  won't  you?  Ah,  I  love  you — 
I  love  you,  Alois.  I  will  show  you  how  a  woman  can 
love."  And  never  had  she  been  so  beautiful,  both 
without  and  within. 

"  As  soon  as  you  please,"  said  he.  He  was  not 
inclined  to  interrogate  his  happiness;  but  he  was  sur 
prised  at  her  sudden  and  unconditional  surrender.  He 
guessed  that  some  quarrel  about  him  with  her  father 
or  with  Hugo  had  roused  her  to  assert  what  he  was 
quite  ready  to  believe  had  been  in  her  heart  all  the 
time;  or,  it  might  be  that  she  wished  to  make  amends 

294 


A    DUEL   AFTER   LUNCH 

for  her  father's  having  planned  to  send  him  away  when 
honor  commanded  him  to  stay  and  guard  his  reputa 
tion.  Had  the  cause  of  her  hysteria  been  real,  or  had 
he  known  why  she  was  so  clinging  and  so  eager,  he 
would  not  have  changed — for  he  loved  her  and  was 
never  half-hearted  in  any  emotion.  Though  her  money 
and  her  position  were  originally  her  greatest  attrac 
tions  for  him,  his  ideal  of  his  own  self-respect  was  too 
high  and  too  real  for  him  to  rest  content  until  he 
had  forced  love  to  put  him  under  its  spell. 

When  he  left  her  she  sent  for  Hugo  and  told  him. 
Hugo  went  off  like  a  charge  at  the  snap  of  the  spark. 
"  You  must  be  mad !  "  he  shouted.  "  Why,  such  a 
marriage  is  beneath  you — is  almost  as  bad  as  your 
sister's.  It's  your  duty  to  bring  a  gentleman  into  the 
family." 

She  would  not  argue  that;  she  would  at  any  cost 
be  forbearing  with  Hugo,  who  must  be  in  torture,  if 
he  was  not  altogether  a  fool — and  sometimes  she 
thought  he  was.  She  restrained  herself  to  saying 
gently,  "  You  don't  seem  to  appreciate  our  changed 
position." 

"  What  '  changed  position  '  ?  What  are  you  talk 
ing  about  ?  "  demanded  Hugo,  rearing  and  beginning 
to  stride  the  length  of  the  room. 

She  did  not  answer;  answer  seemed  unnecessary, 
when  Hugo  was  so  obviously  blustering  to  hide  his  real 
state  of  mind. 

"  You  mean  father's  testimony  ?  "  he  said.  "  What 
rot!  Why,  nobody  that  is  anybody  pays  the  slight 
est  attention  to  that.  Everyone  understands  how 
things  are  in  finance  and  how  vital  it  is  to  guard  the 
secrets  from  lying  demagogues  and  the  mob.  There 
isn't  a  man  of  consequence,  of  high  respectability,  on 

295 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

Manhattan  Island,  or  in  big  affairs  anywhere  in  the 
country,  who  wouldn't  be  in  as  difficult  or  more  difficult 
a  position,  if  he  happened  to  be  cornered.  Every 
one  whose  opinion  we  care  anything  about  is  in  the 
game,  and  this  attack  on  us  is  simply  a  move  of  our 
enemies." 

"  Deceive  yourself,  if  you  want  to,"  replied  Amy. 
"  But  I  know  I  can't  get  married  any  too  soon." 

"  And  marrying  a  nobody,  a  mere  architect,  whose 
sister  works  for  a  living.  You  haven't  even  the  ex 
cuse  of  caring  for  him." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  about  that !  In  the  last 
twenty-four  hours  I've  learned  a  great  deal  about  life, 
about  people.  Everybody  talks  of  love,  and  of  want 
ing  love.  But  nobody  knows  what  it  really  means, 
until  he  has  suffered.  Oh,  Hugo,  don't  be  so  hard! 
I  need  Alois ! "  And  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

Hugo  tossed  his  head ;  but  he  was  not  unimpressed. 
"  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  so  weak,"  said  he  in  a  tone 
that  was  merely  surly  and  therefore,  by  contrast, 
kindly.  "  Of  course,  it's  none  of  my  business.  But 
I  don't  approve  it,  I  want  you  distinctly  to  under 
stand." 

"  You  won't  be  disagreeable  to  Alois  ?  " 

"  I  don't  blame  him,"  said  Hugo.  "  It's  natural 
he  should  be  crazy  to  marry  you.  And,  in  his  way,  he 
isn't  a  bad  sort.  He's  been  about  in  our  set  long 
enough  to  get  something  of  an  air."  Hugo  was 
thinking  that  Amy  had  now  lost  young  Roebuck,  the 
only  eligible  in  her  train;  that,  after  all,  since  he 
himself  was  to  be  the  principal  heir  to  his  father's 
estate,  she  was  not  exactly  a  first-class  matrimonial 
offering  and  might  have  to  take  something  even  less 
satisfactory  than  Alois,  if  she  continued  to  wait  for 

296 


A    DUEL    AFTER    LUNCH 

the  husband  he  could  warm  to.  "  Go  ahead,  if  you 
must,"  was  his  final  remark.  "  I'll  not  interfere." 

This  was  equivalent  to  approval,  and  Amy, 
strengthened,  moved  upon  her  father.  To  her  aston 
ishment,  he  listened  without  interest.  She  had  to  say 
pointedly,  "  And  I've  come  to  find  out  whether  you  ap 
prove,"  before  he  roused  himself  to  respond. 

"  Do  as  you  like,"  he  said  wearily,  not  lifting  his 
eyes  from  the  sheet  of  paper  on  which  he  had  been 
making  aimless  markings,  when  she  interrupted  him. 

"You  wouldn't  object  if  I  married — soon?" 

"  Don't  bother  me,"  he  flamed  out.  "  Do  as  you 
please.  Only,  don't  fret  me.  And,  no  splurge!  I'm 
sick.  I  want  quiet." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  on  the  Thursday  follow 
ing  the  engagement,  a  week  almost  to  the  hour  from 
Fosdick's  tumble  into  his  own  carefully  and  deeply 
dug  pit,  Amy  married  Alois  Siersdorf ,  "  with  only  the 
two  families  present,  because  of  Mr.  Fosdick's  age  and 
illness  " ;  and  at  noon  they  sailed  away  on  the  almost 
empty  Deutschland. 

Alois  did  not  let  his  perplexity  before  Amy's 
astounding  docility  interfere  with  his  happiness.  He 
saw  that,  whatever  the  cause,  she  was  in  love  with  him, 
so  deeply  in  love  that  she  had  descended  from  the 
pedestal,  had  lifted  him  from  his  knees,  had  set  him 
upon  it,  and  had  fallen  down  meekly  to  worship. 
There  were  a  few  of  "  our  people  "  on  the  steamer — 
half  a  dozen  families  or  parts  of  families,  of  "  the 
push,"  who  were  on  their  way  to  freeze  and  sneeze  in 
the  "  warm  "  Riviera  for  the  sake  of  fashion.  Alois 
was  delighted  that  Amy  was  so  absorbed  in  him  that 
she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  them — this  for  the 
first  three  days.  He  had  not  believed  her  capable  of 
20  297 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

the  passion  and  the  tenderness  she  was  lavishing  upon 
him.  She  made  him  hold  her  in  his  arms  hours  at  a 
time;  she  developed  amazing  skill  at  those  coquetries 
of  intimacy  so  much  more  difficult  than  the  entice 
ments  that  serve  to  make  the  period  of  the  engagement 
attractive.  And  he  found  her  more  beautiful,  too, 
than  he  had  thought.  She  was  one  of  those  women  who 
are  not  at  their  best  when  on  public  or  semipublic  view, 
but  reserve  for  intimacy  a  charm  which  explains  the 
otherwise  inexplicable  hold  they  get  upon  the  man  to 
whom  they  fully  reveal  and  abandon  themselves. 

And  Alois,  in  love  with  the  woman  herself  now 
rather  than  with  what  she  represented  to  his  rather 
material  imagination,  surprised  her  in  turn.  She  had 
thought  him  somewhat  stilted,  a  distinctly  professional 
man,  with  too  little  lightness  of  mind — interesting, 
satisfactory  beyond  the  prosy  and  commonplace  and 
patterned  run  of  men  she  knew;  but  still  with  a  ten 
dency  to  be  wearisome  if  taken  in  too  large  doses.  She 
had  to  confess  that  she  had  misjudged  him.  He  was 
no  longer  under  the  nervous  strain  of  trying  to  win 
her,  was  no  longer  handicapped  by  a  vague  but  po 
tent  notion  that  he  would  get  more  than  he  gave  in 
a  marriage  with  her.  He  revealed  his  real  self — light- 
hearted,  varied,  most  adaptable ;  thoroughgoing  mas 
culine,  yet  with  a  femininity,  a  knowledge  of  and 
interest  in  matters  purely  feminine,  that  made  compan 
ionship  as  easy  as  it  was  delightful. 

They  were  in  the  full  rapture  of  these  agreeable 
surprises  each  about  the  other  when  the  representa 
tives  of  "  our  set  "  began  to  insist  upon  associating 
with  them.  Amy  shrank  from  the  first  advances ;  this 
only  made  the  bored  fashionables  the  more  determined. 
Even  in  her  morbidness  about  the  lost  reputation  and 

298 


A    DUEL   AFTER    LUNCH 

the  menace  of  prison,  she  could  not  deceive  herself  as 
to  the  meaning  of  their  persistent  friendliness.  And 
soon  she  was  delighted  by  a  third  surprise.  She  found 
that  Hugo  had  been  right,  and  she  absurdly  wrong, 
about  public  opinion.  There  might  be,  probably  was, 
a  public  opinion  that  misunderstood  her  father  and 
judged  him  by  provincial,  old-fashioned  standards. 
But  it  was  not  her  public  opinion.  All  the  people  of 
her  set  were  more  or  less  involved,  directly  or  through 
their  relations  by  blood  and  marriage,  in  enterprises 
that  necessitated  what  in  the  masses  —  the  "  lower 
classes  "  and  the  "  criminal  classes  " — would  be  called 
lying,  swindling,  and  stealing;  they,  therefore,  had  no 
fault  to  find  with  Fosdick.  Had  he  not  his  fortune 
still?  And  was  he  not  impregnable  against  the  mob 
howling  that  he  be  treated  as  a  common  malefactor? 
Where,  then,  was  the  occasion  for  Phariseeism?  Was 
it  not  the  plain  duty  of  respectable  people  to  stand 
firmly  by  the  Fosdicks  and  show  the  mob  that  respecta 
bility  was  solidly  against  demagogism,  against  attempts 
to  judge  the  upper  class  by  lower  class  standards?  Yes  ; 
that  was  the  wise  course,  and  the  safe  course.  Why, 
even  the  public  prosecutor,  a  suspiciously  demagogical 
shouter  for  "  equal  justice  " — respectability  appreci 
ated  that  he  had  to  get  the  suffrages  of  the  mob,  but 
thought  he  went  a  little  too  far  in  demagogic  speech — 
why,  even  he  had  shown  that  the  gentleman  was 
stronger  in  him  than  the  politician.  Had  he  not,  after 
a  few  days  of  silence,  come  out  boldly  rebuking  "  the 
attempt  to  defame  and  persecute  one  of  the  country's 
most  public-spirited  and  useful  citizens,  in  advance  of 
judicial  inquiry  "  ? 

Amy  was  amazed  that  she  had  been  so  preposter 
ously   unnerved   by    what   she   now    saw   was    literally 

299 


LIGHT-FIN GERED    GENTRY 

nothing  at  all,  a  mere  morbid  phantasy.  But  at  the 
same  time,  she  was  devoutly  thankful  that  she  had  been 
deluded.  "But  for  that,"  said  she  to  herself,  "I 
might  not  have  married  'Lois,  might  have  stifled  the 
best,  the  most  beautiful  emotion  of  my  life,  might  have 
missed  happiness  entirely."  This  thought  so  moved  her 
that  she  rose — it  was  in  the  dead  of  night — and  went 
into  his  room  and  bent  over  him,  asleep,  and  kissed  him 
softly.  And  she  stood,  admiring  in  the  dim  light  the 
manliness  and  the  beauty  of  his  head,  his  waving  hair, 
his  small,  becoming  blond  beard. 

"  I  love  you,"  she  murmured  passionately.  "  No 
price  would  have  been  too  dear  to  pay  for  you." 

Meanwhile  Fosdick  was  settling  to  the  new  condi 
tions  with  a  facility  that  admirably  illustrated  the  in 
finite  adaptability  of  the  human  animal.  The  inevitable, 
however  cruel,  is  usually  easy  to  accept.  It  is  always 
mitigated  by  such  reflections  as  that  it  could  not  have 
been  avoided  and  that  it  might  have  been  worse.  The 
more  intelligent  the  victim,  the  shorter  his  idle  bewail- 
ings  and  the  quicker  his  readjustment — and  Fosdick 
was  certainly  intelligent.  Also,  among  "  practical " 
men,  as  youth  with  its  ardent  courage  and  its  enthu 
siasms  retreats  and  old  age  advances,  there  is  a  steady 
decay  of  self-respect,  a  rapid  decline  of  belief  that  in 
life,  so  brief,  so  unsatisfactory  at  best,  so  fundamen 
tally  sordid,  anything  which  interferes  with  comfort, 
personal  comfort,  is  worth  fighting  for ;  where  a  young 
man  will  challenge  an  almost  fanciful  infringement  of 
his  self-respect,  an  old  man  will  accept  with  a  resigned 
and  cynical  shrug  the  most  degrading  conditions,  if 
only  they  leave  him  material  comfort  and  peace. 

To  aid  old  Fosdick  in  making  the  best  of  it,  the 
300 


A   DUEL   AFTER   LUNCH 

sensational  but  influential  part  of  the  press  each  morn 
ing  and  each  afternoon  girded  at  him,  at  Morris  and 
at  the  authorities,  asking  the  most  impertinent  ques 
tions,  making  the  most  disgusting  demands.  Thus,  the 
old  man  was  not  permitted  to  lose  sight  or  sound  of 
the  foaming- j  owled  bloodhounds  Armstrong  was  pro 
tecting  him  from.  And  when  he  gave  full  weight  to 
the  fact  that  Armstrong  was  also  saving  him  from  the 
Atwater-Langdon-Trafford  crowd,  he  ceased  to  hate 
him,  began  to  look  on  him  as  a  friend  and  ally. 

Now  that  Fosdick  and  Armstrong  were  on  a  basis 
on  which  he  was  compelled  to  respect  the  young  man, 
each  began  to  take  a  more  favorable  view  of  the  other 
than  he  had  ever  taken  before.  Rarely  indeed  is  any 
human  being — any  living  being — altogether  or  even 
chiefly  bad.  If  the  evil  is  the  predominant  force  in  a 
man's  life,  it  is  usually  because  of  some  system  of  which 
he  is  the  victim,  some  system  whose  appeal  to  ap 
petite  or  vanity,  or,  often,  to  sheer  necessities,  is  too 
strong  for  the  natural  instincts  of  the  peaceful,  pa 
tient  human  animal.  And  even  the  man  who  lives 
wholly  by  outrages  upon  his  fellow  men  lives  so  that 
all  but  a  very  few  of  his  daily  acts  are  either  not  bad, 
or  positively  good.  The  mad  beasts  of  creation,  high 
and  low,  are  few — and  they  are  mad.  All  Fosdick's 
strongest  instincts — except  those  for  power  and  wealth 
— were  decent,  and  some  of  them  were  fine.  It  was 
not  surprising  that,  with  so  much  of  the  genuinely 
good  in  him,  he  was  able  to  delude  himself  into  believ 
ing  there  was  reality  behind  his  reputation  as  a 
philanthropic  business  man. 

The  hard  part  of  his  readjustment  was  requesting 
those  through  whom  he  had  controlled  the  O.  A.  D. 
to  transfer  their  allegiance  to  Armstrong.  It  is  a 

301 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

tribute  to  Armstrong's  diplomacy — and  where  was 
there  ever  successful  diplomat  who  was  not  at  bottom 
a  good  fellow,  a  sympathetic  appreciator  of  human  na 
ture? — it  is  a  tribute  to  Armstrong's  diplomatic  skill 
that  Fosdick  came  to  look  on  this  transfer — and  to 
hasten  it  and  to  make  it  complete — as  the  best,  the 
only  means  of  checking  that  "  infamous  Atwater- 
Trafford  gang."  He  felt  he  was  simply  retreating 
one  step  further  into  that  shadow  behind  the  throne 
of  power  in  which  he  had  always  been  careful  to  keep 
himself  pretty  well  concealed.  He  felt — so  considerate 
and  delicate  was  Armstrong — that  he  would  still  be  a 
power  in  the  councils  of  the  O.  A.  D.  He  himself  sug 
gested  that  Hugo  should  retire  from  the  fourth  vice- 
presidency  "  as  soon  as  this  thing  blows  over." 

The  public  knew  nothing  of  the  transfer.  Even 
when  one  gang  bursts  open  the  doors  to  fling  another 
gang  out,  the  public  gets  no  more  than  a  hasty  and 
shallow  glimpse  behind  the  fa9ade  of  the  great  insti 
tutions  that  exploit  it  and  administer  its  affairs.  It 
was  not  let  into  the  secret  that  for  the  first  time  in 
the  history  of  the  O.  A.  D.  its  president  did  preside, 
and  that  he  not  only  presided  but  ruled  as  auto 
cratically  as  Fosdick  had  ruled,  as  some  one  man  al 
ways  does  rule  sooner  or  later  in  any  human  institu 
tion.  But  the  Atwater-Langdon-Trafford  "  gang  " 
soon  heard  what  was  occurring,  and,  as  Armstrong  had 
known  that  they  must  hear,  he  awaited  results  with 
not  a  little  anxiety.  Of  Trafford  he  was  not  at  all 
afraid — Trafford's  tricks  were  the  familiar  common 
places  by  which  most  men  who  get  on  in  the  world 
of  chicane  achieve  their  success.  About  Langdon,  he 
was  somewhat  more  unquiet ;  but  Atwater  was  the  one 
he  dreaded.  What  was  Atwater  doing,  now  that  he 

302 


A    DUEL   AFTER    LUNCH 

realized — as  he  must  realize — that  he  had  been  duped, 
that  Armstrong  had  used  him  to  conquer  Fosdick  and 
was  now  facing  him,  armed  with  Fosdick's  weapons 
and  with  youth  and  energy  and  astuteness ;  that  Mor 
ris  and  the  governor  were  not  his  tools,  as  he  had  been 
imagining,  but  Armstrong's  allies ;  that,  instead  of 
being  about  to  absorb  the  O.  A.  D.,  he  might,  should 
Armstrong  force  the  fighting,  lose  the  great  Universal, 
the  greater  Gibraltar  Mutual,  and  the  Hearth  and 
Home,  which  gathered  in,  and  kept,  the  pennies  of 
poverty  ? 

A  few  days  before  the  committee  was  to  reassemble, 
Atwater  telephoned  Armstrong,  asking  him  to  come  to 
lunch  with  him.  Armstrong  accepted  and  drew  a  long 
breath  of  relief.  He  knew  that  Atwater's  agents  had 
been  sounding  both  the  governor  and  Morris,  had 
"  persuaded "  little  Kenworthy  to  pretend  to  be  ill, 
and  to  put  off  the  reassembling  of  the  committee.  So, 
this  invitation,  this  request  for  a  face-to-face  talk, 
must  mean  that  neither  the  governor  nor  Morris  had 
yielded. 

When  Armstrong  and  Atwater  met,  each  looked  the 
other  over  genially  but  thoroughly.  "  I  congratulate 
you,  my  young  friend,"  said  Atwater  heartily.  "  I 
can  admire  a  stroke  of  genius,  even  though  it  cuts  my 
own  plans." 

No  reference  from  Armstrong  to  the  fact  that  At 
water  had  planned  to  destroy  him  as  soon  as  he  had 
used  him  to  get  the  O.  A.  D. ;  no  reference  from  At 
water,  beyond  this  smiling  and  friendly  hint,  to  the 
fact  that  Armstrong  had  allied  himself  with  Atwater 
ostensibly  to  destroy  Fosdick,  and  had  shifted  just  in 
time  to  outgeneral  his  ally.  Atwater  was  a  fine, 
strong-looking  man  of  sixty  and  odd  years,  with  the 

303 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

kindest  eyes  in  the  world,  and  the  wickedest  jaw — in 
repose.  When  he  smiled,  his  whole  face  was  like  his 
eyes.  He  had  a  peculiarly  agreeable  voice,  and  so 
much  magnetism  that  his  enemies  liked  him  when  with 
him.  He  was  a  man  of  audacious  financial  dreams, 
which  he  carried  out  with  dazzling  boldness — at  least, 
carried  out  to  the  point  where  he  himself  could  "  get 
from  under  "  with  a  huge  profit  and  could  shift  the 
responsibility  of  collapse  to  others.  He  was  a  born 
pirate,  the  best-natured  of  pirates,  the  most  chivalrous 
and  generous.  He  was  of  a  type  that  has  recurred 
in  the  world  each  time  the  diffusion  of  intelligence  and 
of  liberty  has  released  the  energy  of  man  and  given  it 
a  chance  to  play  freely.  Such  men  were  the  distinc 
tion  of  Athens  in  the  heyday  of  its  democracy;  of 
Rome  in  the  period  between  the  austere  and  cruel  re 
public  of  the  patricians  and  the  ferocious  tyranny  of 
Caesardom ;  of  Bagdad  and  Cordova  after  the  Moslems 
became  liberalized  and  before  they  became  degenerate; 
of  Italy  in  the  period  of  the  renaissance;  of  France 
after  the  Revolution  and  before  Friedland  infatuated 
Napoleon  into  megalomania. 

During  the  lunch  the  two  men  talked  racing  and 
automobile  and  pictures — Atwater  had  a  good  eye  for 
line  and  color.  They  would  have  gone  on  to  talk 
music,  had  there  been  time — for  Atwater  loved  music 
and  sang  well  and  played  the  violin  amazingly,  though 
he  practiced  only  about  two  hours  a  day,  and  that 
not  every  day.  But  they  did  not  get  round  to  music ; 
the  coffee  and  cigars  were  brought,  and  the  waiters 
withdrew. 

"  What  is  your  committee  going  to  do,  when  it  gets 
together,  day  after  to-morrow?"  said  Atwater,  the 
instant  the  door  closed  on  the  head  waiter. 

304 


A    DUEL   AFTER    LUNCH 

"  You'll  have  to  see  Morris,  to  find  out  that,"  re 
plied  Armstrong. 

Atwater  smiled  and  waved  his  hand.  "  Bother !  " 
he  retorted.  "What's  your  programme?" 

"  Morris  is  the  man  to  see,"  repeated  Arm 
strong.  "  I  wouldn't  give  up  his  secrets,  if  I  knew 
them." 

"  Our  man  up  at  Buffalo  wires,"  continued  At 
water,  "  that  you  have  got  Kenworthy  out  of  bed  and 
completely  cured.  So,  you  are  going  on.  And  I 
know  you  are  not  the  man  to  wait  in  the  trenches. 
Now,  it  happens  that  Langdon  and  I  have  several  mat 
ters  on  at  this  time — as  much  as  we  can  conveniently 
look  after.  Besides,  what's  to  be  gained  by  tearing  up 
the  public  again,  just  when  it  was  settling  down  to 
confidence?  I  like  a  fight  as  well  as  any  man;  but  I 
don't  believe  in  fighting  for  mere  fighting's  sake,  when 
there  are  so  many  chances  for  a  scrimmage  with  some 
thing  to  be  gained.  It  ain't  good  business.  The  first 
thing  we  know,  the  public  is  going  to  have  some  things 
impressed  on  it  so  deeply  that  even  its  rotten  bad  mem 
ory  will  hold  the  stamp." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Armstrong.  "  I  love 
peace,  myself.  But  I  don't  believe  in  laying  down 
arms  while  the  other  fellow  is  armed  to  the  teeth,  and 
hiding  in  the  bushes  before  my  very  door." 

"  That  means  me,  eh? "  inquired  Atwater  cheer 
fully. 

"  That  means  you,"  said  Armstrong.  "  And  it 
isn't  of  any  use  for  you  to  call  out  from  the  bushes 
that  you've  gone  away  and  are  back  at  your  plowing." 

"  But  I  haven't  gone  away,"  replied  Atwater ;  "  I'm 
still  in  the  bushes.  However,  I'm  willing  to  go." 

"On  what  condition?" 

305 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Give  us  the  two  first  vice-presidents  of  the  O.  A.D. 
and  the  chairmanship  of  the  Finance  Committee." 

That  meant  practical  control.  Armstrong  knew 
that  his  worst  anticipations  were  none  too  gloomy. 
"  And  if  we  don't?  "  said  he. 

"  Our  people  have  been  collecting  inside  facts 
about  the  O.  A.  D.,  about  its  management  ever  since 
you  came  on  to  take  old  Shotwell's  place — poor  old 
Shotwell!  If  we  are  not  put  in  a  position  where  we 
can  bring  about  reforms  in  your  management  and  a 
better  state  of  affairs,  we'll  have  to  take  the  only  other 
alternative.  We  have  the  arrangements  made  to  fire 
a  broadside  from  four  newspapers  to-morrow  morning. 
And  we've  got  it  so  fixed  that  any  return  fire  you 
might  make  would  get  into  the  columns  of  only  two 
newspapers — and  one  of  them  would  discredit  you 
editorially.  Also,  we  will  at  the  same  time  expose 
your  committee."  Atwater  set  out  this  programme 
with  the  frankness  of  a  large  man  of  large  affairs 
to  one  of  his  own  class,  one  with  whom  evasions,  con 
cealments,  and  circumlocutions  would  be  waste  of 
time. 

Armstrong  smiled  slightly.  "Then  it's  war?"  he 
said. 

"  If  you  insist." 

"  You  know  we've  got  the  governor  and  the  attor 
ney-general?  " 

"  But  we've  got  the  press,  practically  all  respecta 
bility,  and  a  better  chance  with  the  Grand  Jury  and 
the  judges." 

Armstrong  gazed  reflectively  into  space.  "  A 
good  fight!"  he  said  judicially.  "If  I  were  a  very 
rich  man  I  should  hesitate  to  precipitate  it.  But,  hav 
ing  nothing  but  my  salary — and  a  good,  clean,  per- 

306 


A    DUEL   AFTER   LUNCH 

sonal  record — I  think  I'll  enjoy  myself.  I'll  not  try 
to  steal  the  credit  of  making  the  fight,  Mr.  Atwater. 
I'll  see  that  you  get  all  the  glory  that  comes  from 
kicking  the  cover  off  hell." 

"  Speaking  of  your  personal  record,"  said  Atwater 
absently.  "  Let  me  see,  you  were  in  the  A.  &  P.  bond 
syndicate,  in  the  little  steel  syndicate  last  spring,  in 
two  stock  syndicates  a  couple  of  months  ago.  Your 
profits  were  altogether  $72,356 — I  forget  the  odd 
cents.  And  they  tell  me  you've  sworn  to  three  reports 
that  won't  stand  examination." 

Armstrong  lifted  his  eyebrows,  drew  at  his  cigar 
awhile.  "  I  see  you've  been  looking  me  up,"  he  said, 
unruffled  apparently.  "  Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "  I 
shouldn't  expect  to  escape  an  occasional  shot.  But 
they'd  hardly  be  noted  in  the  general  fusillade.  The 
Universal  has  been  a  mere  shell  ever  since  you  used 
it,  in  that  traction  reorganization  which  failed — I've 
got  a  safe  full  of  facts  about  it.  And  Morris  tells  me 
he  can  have  mobs  trying  to  hang  Trafford  and  his 
board  of  directors  for  their  doings  in  the  Home  De 
fender." 

Atwater  smiled  grimly.  "  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Arm 
strong,  we'd  concentrate  on  you.  Several  of  the 
strong  men  look  on  you  as  a  dangerous  person.  They 
don't  like  new  faces  down  in  this  part  of  the  town, 
unless  they  wear  a  more  deferential  expression  than 
yours  does.  Personally,  I'd  miss  you.  You're  the  kind 
of  man  I  like  as  friend  or  as  foe.  But  I  couldn't 
let  my  personal  feelings  influence  me  or  oppose  the 
advice  of  the  leading  men  of  finance." 

"  Naturally  not,"  assented  Armstrong. 

"  I've  got  to  be  off  now,"  continued  Atwater, 
rising. 

307 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Armstrong. 

They  went  to  the  street  door  of  the  building,  At- 
water  holding  Armstrong  by  the  arm.  There,  Arm 
strong  put  out  his  hand.  "  Good-by,  Mr.  Atwater," 
he  said ;  "  I'll  meet  you  at  Philippi." 

"  Think  it  over,  young  man,  think  it  over,"  said 
Atwater,  a  friendly,  sad  expression  in  his  handsome, 
kind  eyes.  "  I  don't  want  to  see  you  come  a  nasty 
cropper — one  that'll  make  you  crawl  about  with  a 
broken  back  the  rest  of  your  life.  Put  off  your  am 
bitions — or,  better  still,  come  in  with  us.  We'll  do 
more  for  you  than  you  can  do  for  yourself." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Armstrong  ironically. 

"  Consult  with  your  people.  The  governor  has  al 
most  weakened,  and  I'm  sure  Morris  will  fall  in  line 
with  whatever  you  do." 

"  You've  got  my  answer,"  said  Armstrong,  un 
ruffled  in  his  easy  good  nature.  "  And  I'll  tell  you, 
Mr.  Atwater,  that  if  you  do  take  the  cover  off  hell, 
I'll  see  that  it  isn't  put  on  again  until  you've  had  a 
look-in,  at  least." 

"  You  know  the  situation  too  well  to  imagine  you 
can  win,"  urged  Atwater.  "  You  must  be  thinking  I'm 
bluffing." 

"  Frankly,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Armstrong. 
"  As  you  will  lose  so  much  and  I  so  little,  I  rather  be 
lieve  you  are." 

"  Put  that  idea  out  of  your  mind,"  said  Atwater ; 
and  now  his  face,  especially  his  eyes,  gave  Armstrong 
a  look  full  into  the  true  man,  the  reckless  and  relent 
less  tyrant,  with  whom  tyranny  was  an  instinct 
stronger  than  reason. 

"  I  have,"  was  Armstrong's  quiet  answer. 

"  Then — you  agree  ?  " 

308 


A    DUEL    AFTER    LUNCH 

Armstrong  shook  his  head,  without  taking  his  eyes 
off  Atwater's. 

Atwater  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Fallen  women  have  been  known  to  reform,"  said 
Armstrong.  "  But  there's  no  recorded  case  of  a  fallen 
man's  reforming.  I  find  nothing  to  attract  me,  At 
water,  in  the  lot  of  the  most  splendid  of  these  male 
Messalinas  you  and  your  kind  maintain  in  such  luxury 
as  officials,  public  and  private.  I  belong  to  myself — 
and  I  shall  continue  to  belong  to  myself." 

Atwater's  smile  was  cynical ;  but  there  was  the  cor 
diality  of  respect  in  the  hand  clasp  he  abruptly  forced 
on  Armstrong,  as  he  parted  from  him. 


309 


XXIII 


AT  last  Neva  had  made  a  portrait  she  could  look 
at  without  becoming  depressed.  For  the  free  work 
man  there  is  always  the  joy  of  the  work  itself — the 
mingling  of  the  pain  which  is  happiness  and  the  hap 
piness  which  is  pain,  that  resembles  nothing  so  much 
as  what  a  woman  experiences  in  becoming  a  mother. 
But,  with  the  mother,  birth  is  a  climax;  with  the  ar 
tist,  an  anti-climax.  The  mother  always  sees  that  her 
creation  is  good;  her  critical  faculty  is  the  docile  echo 
of  her  love.  With  the  artist,  the  critical  faculty  must 
be  never  so  mercilessly  just  as  when  he  is  judging 
the  offspring  of  his  own  soul;  he  looks  upon  the  fin 
ished  work,  only  to  see  its  imperfections ;  how  woefully 
it  falls  short  of  what  he  strove  and  hoped.  The  joy 
of  life  is  the  joy  of  work — the  prize  withers  in  its 
winner's  hand. 

After  her  first  year  under  Raphael,  Neva's  por 
traits  had  been  successful — more  successful,  perhaps, 
than  they  would  have  been  if  she  had  had  to  succeed 
in  order  to  live.  She  suspected  that  her  work  was 
overpraised;  Raphael  said  not,  and  thought  not,  and 
his  critical  faculty  was  so  just  that  neither  vanity  nor 
love  could  trick  it.  But  when  she  finished  the  por 
trait  of  Narcisse — Narcisse  at  her  drawing  table,  her 
face  illumined  from  within — her  eyes  full  of  dreams, 

310 


"THE    WOMAN   BORIS    LOVED" 

one  capable  yet  womanly  hand  against  her  smooth, 
round  cheek,  the  background  a  hazed,  mysterious 
mirage  of  fairylike  structures — when  this  portrait  was 
done,  Neva  looked  on  it  and  knew  that  it  was  good. 
"  It  might  be  better,"  said  she.  "  It  is  far,  far  from 
best — even  my  best,  I  hope.  But  it  is  good." 

She  did  not  let  her  master  see  it  until  she  had  made 
the  last  stroke.  Theretofore  he  had  always  said  some 
word  of  encouragement  the  moment  he  looked  at  any 
of  her  work  submitted  to  him.  Now,  he  stood  silent, 
his  eyes  searching  for  flaws,  instead  of  for  merits. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning  of  that  criticism ; 
Neva  thrilled  until  she  trembled.  It  was  the  happiest 
moment  of  her  life. 

"  I  guess  you've  hit  it,  this  time,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  Worse  work  than  that  has  lived — on  its  merits." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  never  be  able  to  do  it  again,"  she 
sighed.  "  It  seems  to  me  an  accident." 

"  And  so  it  was,"  replied  he.  "  So  is  all  inspired 
work.  Yes,  it's  an  accident — but  that  kind  of  acci 
dents  happen  again  and  again  to  those  who  keep  good 
and  ready  for  good  luck."  He  turned  and,  almost  for 
getting  the  woman  in  the  artist,  put  his  hand  affec 
tionately,  admiringly,  on  her  shoulder.  "  And  you — 
my  dear — you  have  worked  well." 

"  Not  so  well  as  I  shall  hereafter,"  replied  she. 
"  I've  been  discouraged.  This  will  put  heart  into  me." 

He  smiled  with  melancholy.  "Yes — you'll  work 
better.  But  not  because  you're  less  discouraged.  This 
picture  gives  you  pleasure  now.  Six  months  hence  it 
will  be  a  source  of  pain  every  time  you  think  of  it. 
There's  a  picture  I  did  about  twelve  years  ago  that  has 
stretched  me  on  the  rack  a  thousand  times.  I  never 
think  of  it  without  a  twinge.  Why?  Because  I  feel 

311 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

I've  never  equaled  it  since.  They  say  I  have — say  it's 
far  inferior  to  my  later  work.  But  I  know — and  it 
galls." 

The  bell  rang  and  presently  Molly  appeared  with 
Raphael's  man-of-all-work  carrying  a  large  canvas, 
covered.  "  Ah — here  it  is  !  "  cried  Boris,  and  when  the 
two  servants  were  gone,  he  said  to  Neva :  "  Now,  shut 
your  eyes,  and  don't  open  them  till  I  tell  you." 

A  few  seconds,  then  he  cried  laughingly,  "  Be 
hold  !  "  She  looked ;  it  was  a  full-length  portrait  of 
herself.  She  was  entering  a  room,  was  holding  aside  a 
dark  purple  curtain  that  was  in  daring,  exquisite  con 
trast  with  her  soft,  clinging,  silver-white  dress,  and  the 
whiteness  of  her  slender,  long,  bare  arms.  The  dark 
ness  in  which  her  figure,  long  and  slim  and  slight,  was 
framed,  the  flooding  light  upon  it  as  if  from  it,  the 
exceeding  beauty  of  her  slender  face,  of  her  dreaming, 
dazzled  eyes,  all  combining  to  suggest  a  soul,  newly 
awakened  from  a  long,  long  sleep,  and  entering  life, 
full  equipped  for  all  that  life  has  for  a  mind  that  can 
think  and  a  heart  that  can  love  and  laugh  and  weep — 
It  was  Neva  at  her  best,  Boris  at  his  best. 

He  looked  from  the  portrait  to  her,  and  back 
again.  "  Not  right,"  he  muttered  discontentedly. 
"  not  yet.  However,  I'll  touch  it  up  here."  Then  to 
her,  "  I  want  a  few  sittings,  if  you'll  take  the  trouble 
to  get  out  that  dress." 

She  was  gazing  at  his  work  with  awe;  it  did  not 
seem  to  her  to  be  herself.  "  It  is  finished,  now,"  said 
she  to  him. 

"  It  will  never  be  finished,"  he  replied.  "  I  shall 
keep  it  by  me  and  work  at  it  from  time  to  time."  He 
stood  off  and  looked  at  it  lovingly.  "You're  mine, 
there,"  he  went  on.  "  All  mine,  young  woman."  And 


"THE    WOMAN   BORIS    LOVED" 

he  took  one  of  her  long  brushes  and  scrawled  "  Boris  " 
across  the  lower  left  corner  of  the  canvas.  "  It  shall 
be  my  bid  for  immortality  for  us  both.  When  you've 
ceased  to  belong  to  yourself  or  anyone,  when  you  shall 
have  passed  away  and  are  lost  forever  in  the  abyss  of 
forgotten  centuries,  Boris's  Neva  will  still  be  Boris's. 
And  men  and  women  of  races  we  never  dreamed  of  will 
stand  before  her  and  say,  *  She — oh,  I  forget  her  name, 
but  she's  the  woman  Boris  loved.'  ' 

A  note  in  his  mock-serious  tone,  a  gleam  in  his 
smiling  gaze  made  the  tears  well  into  her  eyes ;  and 
he  saw  them,  and  the  omen  put  him  in  a  glow.  In 
his  own  light  tone,  she  corrected,  "  A  woman  Boris 
-fancied" 

"  The  woman  Boris  loved,"  he  repeated.  "  The 
woman  he  was  never  separated  from,  the  woman  he 
never  let  out  of  his  sight.  There  are  two  of  you, 
now.  And  I  have  the  immortal  one.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"  There's  nothing  left  for  the  mortal  one  but  to 
get  and  to  stay  out  of  sight.  No  one  that  once 
saw  your  Neva  would  take  much  interest  in  mine." 

"  It's  a  portrait  that's  a  likeness,"  said  he.  "  With 
you,  the  outside  happens  to  be  an  adequate  reflection 
of  the  inside."  And  he  smiled  at  her  simplicity,  which 
he  knew  was  as  unaffected  as  it  always  is  with  those 
who  think  little  about  themselves,  much  about  their 
surroundings. 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  it,"  she  said  wistfully. 

"  You  can  see  it  in  the  face  of  any  man  who  hap 
pens  to  be  looking  at  you." 

But  she  had  turned  to  her  portrait  of  Narcisse 
and  was  eying  it  disdainfully.  "  I  must  hide  that," 
she  went  on,  "  as  long  as  yours  is  in  this  room.  How 
21  313 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

clumsy  my  work  looks — how  painstaking  and  '  tal 
ented.'  '  She  wheeled  it  behind  a  curtain. 

"  None  of  that !  None  of  that !  "  he  protested  se 
verely.  "  Never  depreciate  your  own  work  to  your 
self.  You  can't  be  like  me,  nor  I  like  you.  Each 
flower  its  own  perfume,  each  bird  its  own  song.  You 
are  a  painter  born ;  so  am  I.  No  one  can  be  more." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  she  apologized.  "  I'm  not  as 
foolishly  self-effacing  as  when  you  first  took  me  in 
hand,  am  I?  " 

"  You  make  a  braver  front,"  replied  he,  "  but 
sometimes  I  suspect  it's  only  a  front.  Will  you  give 
me  a  sitting  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  I'll  change  to  that  dress,  and  tell  Molly  not  to  let 
anyone  in." 

She  had  been  gone  about  ten  minutes  when  the  bell 
rang  again.  Boris  continued  to  busy  himself  with 
paints  and  brushes  until  he  caught  Armstrong's  voice. 
He  frowned,  paused  in  his  preparations,  and  listened. 

"Is  Miss  Genevieve  at  home?"  Armstrong  was 
saying. 

To  Boris's  astonishment,  he  heard  the  old  woman 
answer,  in  a  tone  which  did  not  conceal  her  dislike  for 
the  man  she  was  addressing,  "  Yes,  sir.  Go  into  the 
studio.  She  will  be  in  shortly." 

Armstrong  entered,  to  find  himself  facing  Ra 
phael's  most  irritating  expression — an  amused  disdain, 
the  more  penetrating  for  a  polite  pretense  of  conceal 
ment.  "  Come  in,  Mr.  Armstrong,"  cried  he.  "  But 
you  mustn't  stay  long,  as  we're  at  work." 

"  How  d'ye  do,"  said  Armstrong,  all  but  ignoring 
him.  "  Sorry  to  annoy  you.  But  don't  mind  me.  Go 
right  on."  And  he  began  to  wander  about  the  room 
— Raphael  had  thrown  a  drape  over  his  picture  of 

314 


"THE    WOMAN   BORIS   LOVED" 

Neva.  The  minutes  dragged;  the  silence  was  oppres 
sive.  Finally  Armstrong  said,  "  Miss  Carlin  must  be 
dressing." 

"  Beg  pardon  ? "  asked  Boris,  as  if  he  had  not 
heard. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Armstrong.  "  Perhaps  I  was 
thinking  aloud." 

Silence  again,  until  Raphael,  in  the  hope  of  induc 
ing  this  untimely  visitor  to  depart,  said,  "  Miss  Carlin 
is  getting  ready  for  a  sitting." 

"  You  are  painting  her  portrait?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  That  will  be  interesting.  I'd  like  to  see  how  it's 
done.  I'll  sit  by  quite  quietly.  You  won't  mind  me." 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  go,"  replied  the  painter. 
"  I'd  not  be  disturbed,  but  a  spectator  has  a  disastrous 
effect  on  the  sitter." 

"  I  see,"  said  Armstrong.  "  Well,  I'U  wait  until 
she  comes.  Are  you  just  beginning?" 

"  No,"  replied  Raphael  curtly. 

"Is  that  the  portrait?"  asked  Armstrong,  indi 
cating  the  covered  canvas. 

Boris  hesitated,  suddenly  flung  off  the  cover. 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  Armstrong,  under  his  breath, 
drawing  back  a  step. 

He  gazed  with  an  expression  that  interested  Boris 
the  lover  even  more  than  Boris  the  student  and  painter 
of  human  nature.  Since  the  talk  with  Atwater,  Arm 
strong  had  been  casting  this  way  and  that,  night  and 
day,  for  some  means,  any  means,  to  escape  from  the 
sentence  the  grandee  of  finance  had  fixed  upon  him; 
for  he  had  not  even  considered  the  alternative — to 
strike  his  flag  in  surrender.  But  escape  he  could  not 
contrive,  and  it  had  pressed  in  upon  him  that  he  must 

315 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

go  down,  down  to  the  bottom.  He  might  drag  many 
with  him,  perhaps  Atwater  himself ;  but,  in  the  depths, 
under  the  whole  mass  of  wreckage  would  be  himself — 
dead  beyond  resurrection.  At  thirty  a  man's  reputa 
tion  can  be  shot  all  to  pieces,  and  heal,  with  hardly  a 
scar ;  but  not  at  forty.  Still  young,  with  less  than  half 
his  strength  of  manhood  run,  he  would  be  of  the  liv 
ing  that  are  dead.  And  he  had  come  to  see  Neva  for 
the  last  time,  after  fighting  in  vain  against  the  folly 
of  the  longing — of  yielding  to  the  longing,  when 
yielding  could  mean  only  pain,  more  pain. 

And  now  that  he  had  weakly  yielded,  here  was  this 
creation  of  the  genius  who  loved  her,  to  put  him  quite 
down.  He  was  like  one  waking  to  the  sanity  of  reality 
from  a  dream  in  which  he  has  figured  as  all  that  he 
is  not  but  longs  to  be.  "  Even  if  there  had  been  no 
one  else  seeking  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  what  hope 
was  there  for  me?  And  with  this  man  loving  her — 
Whether  she  loves  him  as  yet  or  not,  she  will,  she  must, 
sooner  or  later."  Beside  the  power  to  evoke  such  en 
chantment  as  that  which  lived  and  breathed  before  him, 
his  own  skill  at  cheating  and  lying  in  order  to  shift  the 
position  of  sundry  bags  of  tawny  dirt  seemed  to  him 
so  mean  and  squalid  that  he  felt  as  if  he  were  shrink 
ing  in  stature  and  Raphael  were  towering.  At  last, 
he  was  learning  the  lesson  of  humility — the  lesson  that 
is  the  beginning  of  character. 

"  I'll  not  wait,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  that  smote  the 
heart  of  Boris,  the  fellow  being  sensitive  to  feeling's 
faintest,  finest  note.  "  Say,  please,  that  I  had  to  go." 

Raphael  astonished  himself  by  having  an  impulse  of 
compassion.  But  he  checked  it.  "  He'd  better  go," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  Seeing  her  would  only  increase 
his  misery."  And  he  silently  watched  Armstrong  move 

316 


11  THE    WOMAN   BORIS   LOVED" 

heavily  toward  the  door  into  the  hall.  The  big  West 
erner's  hand  was  on  the  portiere  and  his  sad  gray  eyes 
were  taking  a  last  look  at  the  picture.  The  faint 
rustle  of  her  approach  made  him  hesitate.  Before  he 
could  go,  she  entered.  She  was  not  in  the  silver-white 
evening  dress  Raphael  expected,  but  in  the  house  dress 
she  was  wearing  when  he  came. 

"  I'm  just  going,"  Armstrong  explained.  "  I 
shan't  interrupt  your  sitting." 

"  Oh,  that's  off  for  to-day,"  replied  she.  "  Now 
that  I've  had  the  trouble  of  changing  twice  on  your 
account,  you'll  have  to  stop  awhile.  Morning  is  better 
for  a  sitting,  anyhow.  We  shouldn't  have  had  more 
than  half  an  hour  of  good  light." 

Boris  was  tranquilly  acquiescent.  "  To-morrow 
morning !  "  he  said,  with  not  a  trace  of  irritation. 

"  If  you  can  come  at  noon." 

"  Very  well." 

He  covered  the  picture,  which  had  been  quite  for 
gotten  by  all  three  in  the  stress  of  the  meeting  of 
living  personalities.  He  had  a  queer  ironic  smile  as  he 
pushed  it  back  against  the  wall,  took  up  his  hat  and 
coat. 

"  You're  not  going,"  she  ob j  ected. 

His  face  shadowed  at  her  tone,  which  seemed  to  him 
to  betray  a  feeling  the  opposite  of  objection.  "Yes," 
said  he — "  since  I  can't  do  this,  I  must  do  something 
else.  I  haven't  the  time  to  idle  about." 

She  colored  at  this  subtle  reflection  upon  her  own 
devotion  to  work.  All  she  said  was,  "  At  noon  to-mor 
row,  then.  And  I'll  be  dressed  and  ready." 

When  he  heard  the  outer  door  close  Armstrong 
said,  "  I  understand  now  why  you  like  him."  He  was 
looking  at  the  draped  easel  with  eyes  that  expressed 

317 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

all  he  was  thinking  about  Neva,  and  about  Neva  and 
Boris. 

"You  liked  the  picture?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  And  there  he  stopped ;  his  ex 
pression  made  her  glance  away  and  color  faintly. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  she  inquired  with  friendly 
satire.  "  Have  you  lost  a  few  dollars  ?  " 

He  lowered  his  head.  "  Don't,"  he  said  humbly. 
"  Please — not  to-day." 

As  he  sat  staring  at  the  floor  and  looking  somewhat 
shorn,  yet  a  shorn  Samson,  she  watched  him,  her  ex 
pression  like  a  veil  not  thick  enough  to  hide  the  fact 
that  there  is  emotion  behind  it,  yet  not  thin  enough 
to  reveal  what,  or  even  what  kind  of,  emotion.  Pres 
ently  she  went  toward  the  curtain  behind  which  she 
had  put  her  portrait  of  Narcisse.  "  I  don't  think  I've 
ever  shown  you  any  of  my  work,  have  I? "  said 
she. 

"  No,  but  Pve  seen — almost   everything." 

"  Why,  you  never  spoke  of  it." 

"  No,"  he  said.  Then  he  added,  "  I've  always  hated 
your  work — not  because  it  was  bad,  but  because  it 
was  good." 

She  dropped  her  hand  from  the  curtain  she  had 
been  about  to  draw  aside. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  he.  "  All  that  doesn't  mat 
ter,  now." 

She  brought  out  the  portrait.  He  looked  in 
silence — he  had  hid  himself  behind  that  impenetrable 
stolidity  which  made  him  seem  not  only  emotionless  but 
incapable  of  emotion.  When  he  took  his  gaze  from  the 
picture,  it  was  to  stare  into  vacancy.  She  watched 
him  with  eyes  shining  softly  and  sadly.  As  he  be 
came  vaguely  conscious  of  the  light  upon  the  dark 

318 


"THE    WOMAN   BORIS   LOVED" 

path  and  stirred,  she  said  with  irresistible  gentleness, 
"What  is  it,  Horace?" 

"  Blues — only  the  blues,"  replied  he,  rousing  him 
self  and  rising  heavily  from  his  chair.  "  I  must  go. 
I'll  end  by  making  you  as  uncomfortable  as  I  am  my 
self.  In  the  mood  I'm  in  to-day,  a  man  should  hide 
in  his  bed  and  let  no  one  come  near  him." 

"  Sit  down — please,"  said  she,  touching  his  arm  in 
a  gesture  of  appeal.  She  smiled  with  a  trace  of  her 
old  raillery.  "  You  are  more  nearly  human  than  I've 
ever  seen  you." 

He  yielded  to  the  extent  of  seating  himself  tenta 
tively  on  the  arm  of  a  chair.  "  Human  ?  Yes — that's 
it.  I've  sunk  down  to  where  I  think  I'd  almost  be 
grateful  even  for  pity."  The  spell  of  good  luck,  of 
prosperity  without  reverse,  that  had  held  him  a  mere 
incarnate  ambition,  was  broken,  was  dissolving. 

She  seated  herself  opposite,  leaned  toward  him. 
"Horace,"  she  said,  "can  I  help  you?"  And  so 
soothing  was  her  tone  that  her  offer  could  not  have 
smarted  upon  the  wound  even  of  a  proud  man  less 
humbled  than  he. 

"  It's  nothing  in  which  you  could  be  of  the  slight 
est  assistance,"  replied  he.  "  I've  got  myself  in  a 
mess — who  was  ever  in  a  mess  that  wasn't  of  his  own 
making?  I  jumped  in,  and  I  find  there's  no  jump 
ing  out.  I  might  crawl  out — but  I  never  learned  that 
way  of  traveling,  and  at  my  age  it  can't  be  learned." 

"  Whatever  it  is,"  she  said,  very  slow  and  deliber 
ate,  "  you  must  let  me  help  you  bear  it." 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  the  possible  meaning 
of  her  words  penetrated  to  him.  He  looked  at  her  in 
a  dazed  way.  "What  did  you  say — just  now?"  he 
asked. 

319 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  No  matter  what  it  is,"  she  repeated,  "  we  can 
and  will  bear  it  together." 

"  Does  that  mean  you  care  for  me  ?  "  he  asked,  as 
if  stunned. 

"  It  means  I  am  giving  you  the  friendship  you 
once  asked,"  was  her  answer,  in  the  same  slow,  earnest 
way. 

"  Oh,"  he  said.  Then,  as  she  colored  and  shrank, 
"  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you.  Yes,  I  want  your  friend 
ship.  It's  all — it's  more  than  I've  the  right  to  ask, 
now.  You  did  well  to  refuse  me,  when  I  wanted  you 
and  thought  I  had  something  to  give  in  return." 

"  You  didn't  want  me"  she  replied.  "  You  wanted 
only  what  almost  any  man  wants  of  almost  any  woman. 
And  you  had  nothing  to  give  me  in  return — for, 
I  don't  want  from  any  man  only  what  you  think 
is  all  a  man  ought  to  give  a  woman,  or  could  give 
her.  I  am  like  you,  in  one  way.  I  want  all  or 
nothing." 

"  Well — you'd  get  nothing,  now,  from  me,"  said  he 
with  stolid  bitterness.  "  I'm  done  for.  I  wouldn't 
drag  you  down  with  me,  even  if  you'd  let  me."  And 
he  seized  his  hat  and  strode  toward  the  door.  But 
she  was  before  him,  barring  the  way.  "  Drag  me 
down !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  A  few  months  ago,  when  you 
asked  me  to  marry  you — then  you  did  want  to  drag 
me  down.  The  name  of  wife  doesn't  cover  the  shame 
of  the  plaything  of  passion.  Now " 

His  stern  face  relaxed.  He  looked  down  at  her 
doubtfully,  longingly.  It  seemed  to  him  that,  if  he 
were  to  try  now,  if  he  were  to  ask  of  her  pity  what 
she  had  denied  to  his  passion  in  his  strength  and  pride, 
he  might  get  it.  The  perfume  of  her  bright  brown 
hair  intoxicated  him;  his  whole  body  was  inhaling  her 

320 


11  THE    WOMAN   BORIS   LOVED" 

beauty,  which  seemed  to  be  flowing  like  the  fumes  of 
ecstasy  itself  through  her  delicate,  almost  diaphanous 
draperies  of  lace  and  silk  and  linen.  She  had  offered 
only  friendship,  but  passion  was  urging  that  she  would 
yield  all  if  he  would  but  ask.  All!  And  what  would 
be  the  price?  Why,  merely  yielding  to  Atwater.  He 
need  not  tell  her  until  he  had  made  terms  with  him, 
had  secured  something  of  a  future  materially,  per 
haps  a  great  future,  for  he  could  make  himself  most 
useful  to  Atwater 

"  No  matter  what  it  is,"  she  said,  "  you  can  count 
on  me." 

— Yes,  most  useful  to  Atwater;  and  all  would  be 
well.  Trick  her  into  marrying  him — then,  compromise 
with  Atwater — and  all  would  be  well.  He  thought  he 
was  about  to  stretch  out  his  arms  to  take  her,  when 
suddenly  up  started  within  him  the  will  that  was  his 
real  self.  "  I  can't  do  it,"  he  cried  roughly.  "  Stand 
away  from  the  door !  " 

"Can't — do — what?"  she  asked. 

"  Can't  give  in  to  Atwater."  Rapidly  he  gave 
her  an  outline  of  the  situation.  Partly  because  he 
abhorred  cant,  partly  because  he  was  determined  not 
to  say  anything  sounding  like  an  appeal  for  her  ad 
miration  and  sympathy,  he  carefully  concealed  the  real 
reasons  of  pride  and  self-respect  that  forbade  him  to 
make  terms  with  Atwater.  "  I  won't  bend  to  any 
man,"  he  ended.  "  I  may  be,  shall  be,  struck  down. 
But  I'll  never  kneel  down !  " 

She  seemed  bewildered  by  the  marshy  maze  of 
trickery  through  which  his  explanation  had  been  tak 
ing  her.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  she  urged,  "  that  if  you 
don't  make  terms  with  Mr.  Atwater,  don't  return  to 
what  you  originally  agreed  to  do,  it'll  mean  disgrace 

321 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

you  don't  deserve,  and  injury  to  the  men  who  have 
stood  by  you." 

"  So  it  will,"  was  his  answer  in  a  monotonous,  ex 
asperating  way.  "  Nevertheless — "  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders —  "  I  can't  do  it.  I've  always  been  that 
way.  I  don't  know,  myself,  till  the  test  comes,  what 
I  may  do  and  what  I  may  not  do." 

Her  eyes  lowered,  but  he  thought  he  could  see  and 
feel  her  contempt.  She  left  the  door,  seated  herself, 
resting  her  head  on  her  arms.  He  shifted  awkwardly 
from  one  leg  to  the  other.  He  felt  he  had  accom 
plished  his  purpose,  had  done  what  was  the  only  decent 
thing  in  the  circumstances — had  disgusted  her.  It  was 
time  to  go.  But  he  lingered. 

She  startled  him  by  suddenly  straightening  herself 
and  saying,  or  rather  beginning,  "  If  you  really  loved 
me " 

He,  stung  with  furious  anger,  made  a  scornful 
gesture.  "  Delilah !  "  he  cried.  "  It's  always  the  same 
story.  Love  robs  a  man  of  his  strength.  You  would 
use  love  to  tempt  me  to  be  a  traitor  to  myself.  Yes, 
a  traitor.  I  haven't  much  morality,  or  that  sort  of 
thing.  But  I've  got  a  standard,  and  to  it  I  must  hold. 
If  I  yielded  to  Atwater,  I  should  go  straight  to  hell." 

"  Ah,"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  the  clouds  had  suddenly 
opened,  "  then  you  are  right,  Horace.  You  must  not 
yield!  Why  did  you  frighten  me?  Why  didn't  you 
say  that  before?  Why  did  you  pretend  it  was  mere 
stubbornness  ?  " 

"  Because  that's  what  it  is — mere  stubbornness. 
Stubbornness — that's  my  manhood — all  the  manhood 
I've  got.  I  grant  terms — I  do  not  accept  them." 

His  manner  chilled,  where  his  words  would  have  had 
small  effect.  And  it  conveyed  no  impression  of  being 


"THE    WOMAN   BORIS   LOFED" 

an  assumed  manner ;  on  the  contrary,  the  cold,  im 
movable  man  before  her  seemed  more  like  the  Arm 
strong  she  had  known  than  the  man  of  tenderness  and 
passion.  Her  words  were  braver  than  her  manner,  and 
more  hopeful,  as  she  said,  "  You  can't  deceive  me,  Hor 
ace.  It  must  be  that  it  is  impossible  to  make  honorable 
terms  with  Atwater." 

"  As  you  please." 

"  You  are,  for  some  reason,  trying  to  drive  away 
my  friendship.  Your  pride  in  your  own  self-suffi- 
cience " 

"  You  force  me  to  be  perfectly  frank,"  he  inter 
rupted.  "  My  love  for  you  is  nothing  but  a  passion. 
It  has  been  tempting  me  to  play  the  traitor  to  myself. 
I  caught  myself  in  time.  I  stand  or  fall  alone.  You 
would  merely  burden  and  weaken  me." 

She  sat  still  and  white  and  cold.  Without  look 
ing  at  her,  he,  in  a  stolid,  emotionless  way,  and  with 
a  deliberation  that  seemed  to  have  no  reluctance  in  it, 
left  her  alone. 

"  Horace ! "  she  cried,  starting  up,  as  the  portiere 
dropped  behind  him. 

The  only  answer  was  the  click  of  the  closing  out 
side  door.  She  sank  back,  stared  in  a  stupor  at  the 
shrine  which  the  god  had  visited  after  so  many  years 
— had  visited  only  to  profane  and  destroy. 


323 


XXIV 

NEVA    SOLVES    A    KIDDLE 

NEXT  morning  she  sent  Boris  a  note  asking  him 
not  to  come  until  afternoon.  When  he  entered  the 
studio  he  found  her  before  the  blazing  logs  in  the  big 
fireplace,  weary,  depressed,  bearing  the  unbecoming 
signs  of  a  sleepless  night  and  a  day  crouched  down  in 
the  house.  "  We  must  go  and  walk  this  off,"  said  he. 

"  No,"  replied  she  listlessly.  "  Nothing  could  in 
duce  me  to  dress." 

He  lit  a  cigarette,  stretched  himself  at  ease  in  a  big 
chair  opposite  her.  "  You  have  had  bad  news — very 
bad  news." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  ill — on  the  operating  table 
— and  the  cocaine  were  wearing  off." 

"Armstrong?" 

Her  answer  was  the  silence  of  assent. 

"  When  you  told  Molly  not  to  let  anyone  in,  yes 
terday,  you  excepted  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  thought  it  over  afterwards  and  decided  that 
must  be  so."  Several  reflective  puffs  at  the  cigarette. 
Then,  not  interrogating,  but  positively,  "  You  care  for 
him." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  she  said,  as  if  the  matter  were  doubtful 
and  in  any  event  not  interesting. 

Boris  drew  a  long  breath.  "  That's  why  I've  been 
324 


NEVA    SOLVES   A    RIDDLE 

unable  to  make  a  beginning  with  you.  I  ought  to  have 
seen  it  long  ago,  but  I  didn't — not  until  yesterday — 
not  until  I  had  solved  the  riddle  of  his  being  able  to 
get  in." 

"  That's  rather  a  strong  conclusion  from  such  a 
trifling  incident." 

"  Proof  is  proof  enough — to  a  discerning  mind," 
replied  he.  A  pause,  she  staring  into  the  fire,  he  study 
ing  her.  "  Strange ! "  he  went  on,  suspiciously  ab 
stract  and  judicial.  "  He's  a  man  I'd  have  said  you 
couldn't  care  for." 

"  So  should  I,"  said  she,  to  herself  rather  than  to 
him. 

He  was  more  astonished  and  interested  than  he  let 
appear.  "  There's  no  accounting  for  caprices  of  the 
heart,"  he  pursued.  "  But  it's  a  fairly  good  rule  that 
indifference  is  always  and  hugely  inflammatory — pro 
vided  it  conveys  the  idea  that  if  it  were  to  take  fire, 
there  would  be  a  flame  worth  the  trouble  of  the 
making." 

She  made  no  comment. 

"And  you  came  on  here  to  win  him  back?" 

"Did  I?" 

"  A  woman  always  does  everything  with  a  view  to 
some  man."  He  smiled  in  cheerful  self-mockery. 
"  And  I  deluded  myself  into  believing  you  thought 
only  of  art.  Yes,  I  believed  it.  Well — now  what?" 

"  Nothing,"  she  said  drearily.     "  Nothing." 

"You  won,  and  then  discovered  you  didn't  care?  " 

"  No."  She  made  a  gesture  that  suggested  to  him 
utter  emptiness.  "  I  lost,"  she  said,  as  her  hands 
dropped  listlessly  back  to  her  lap. 

Boris  winced.  Usually  a  woman  makes  a  confes 
sion  so  humiliating  to  vanity,  only  to  one  whom,  how- 

325 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

ever  she  may  trust  and  like  him,  she  yet  has  not  the 
slightest  desire  to  attract.  Then  he  remembered  that 
it  might  have  a  different  significance,  coming  from  her, 
with  her  pride  so  large  and  so  free  from  petty  vanity 
that  the  simple  truth  about  a  personal  defeat  gave  her 
no  sense  of  humiliation. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  next,"  she  continued, 
thinking  aloud.  "  I  seem  to  have  no  desire  to  go  on, 
and,  if  I  had,  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  path  to  go 
on  upon.  You  say  I  care  for  him.  I  don't  know.  I 
only  know  I  seem  to  have  needed  him— his  friendship 
— or,  rather,  my  friendship  for  him." 

Boris  smiled  cynically.  But  her  words  impressed 
him.  True  friendship  was,  as  a  rule,  impossible  be 
tween  women  and  men ;  but  every  rule  has  exceptions, 
and  this  woman  was  in  so  many  other  ways  an  ex 
ception  to  all  the  rules  that  it  might  be  just  possible 
she  had  not  fallen  in  love  with  Armstrong's  strength 
of  body  and  of  feature  and  of  will.  At  any  rate,  here 
was  a  wound,  and  a  wound  that  was  opportunity.  The 
sorer  the  heart,  the  more  eagerly  it  accepts  any  medi 
cine  that  offers.  So  Boris  suggested,  with  no  ap 
parent  guile  in  his  sympathy,  "  Why  not  go  abroad  for 
a  year — two  years?  We  can  work  there,  and  perhaps 
— I  can  help  you  to  forget."  Her  expression  made  him 
hasten  to  add,  "  Oh,  I  understand.  I'm  merely  the 
artist  to  you." 

"  Merely  the  artist !  It's  because  you  are  *  merely 
the  artist '  that  I  could  not  look  on  you  as  just  a 
man." 

Boris's  smile  was  sardonic.  "  The  women  the  men 
respect  too  highly  to  love!  The  men  the  women  re 
vere  too  deeply  for  passion!  Poor  wretches."  The 
smile  was  still  upon  his  lips  as  he  added,  "  Poor,  lonely 


NEVA    SOLVES   A    RIDDLE 

wretches ! "  But  in  his  eyes  she  saw  a  pain  that  made 
her  own  pain  throb  in  sympathy. 

"  We  are,  all,  alone — always,"  said  she.  "  But 
only  those  like  you  are  great  enough  to  realize  it.  I 
can  deceive  myself  at  times.  I  can  dream  of  perfect 
companionship — or  the  possibility  of  it." 

"But  not  with  me?" 

"  I  don't  trust  you — in  that  way,"  she  replied. 
"  I  estimate  your  fancy  for  me  at  its  true  value.  You 
see,  I  know  a  good  deal  of  your  history,  and  that 
has  helped  me  to  take  you — not  too  seriously  as  a 
lover." 

"  How  you  have  misread ! "  said  he,  and  no  one 
could  have  been  sure  whether  he  was  in  earnest  or  not 
under  the  manner  he  wore  to  aid  him  in  avoiding  what 
he  called  the  colossal  stupidity  of  taking  oneself  sol 
emnly.  "  I'm  astonished  at  your  not  appreciating 
that  a  man  who  lives  in  and  upon  his  imagination  can't 
be  like  your  sober,  calculating,  bourgeois  friends  who 
deal  in  the  tangible  only.  Besides,  since  I've  had  you 
as  a  standard,  my  imagination  has  been  unable  to  cheat 
me.  I've  even  begun  to  fear  I'll  never  be  able  to  put 
you  far  enough  into  the  background  to  become  inter 
ested  again." 

As  he  thus  brought  sharply  into  view  the  line  of 
cleavage  between  their  conceptions  of  the  relations  of 
men  and  women,  she  drew  back  coldly.  "  I  don't  un 
derstand  your  ideas  there,"  said  she,  "  and  I  don't  like 
them.  Anyone  who  lives  on  your  theory  fritters  away 
his  emotions." 

"  Not  at  all.  He  makes  heavy  investments  in  edu 
cation.  He  accumulates  a  store  of  experience,  of  ap 
preciation,  of  discrimination.  He  learns  to  distin 
guish  pearl  from  paste.  It's  the  habit  of  women  of 

327 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

your  kind  to  become  offended  if  men  tell  them  the 
honest  truth.  .  .  .  Doubtless,  Armstrong " 

"  Don't !     I  don't  care  to  hear." 

"  You  interrupt  too  quickly.  I  question  whether 
women  interest  him  at  all,  he's  so  busy  with  his  gam 
bling.  Sensible  man,  happy  man — to  have  a  passion 
for  inanimate  things.  What  I  was  about  to  say  is 
that  you  women,  with  all  your  admiration  for  strength, 
are  piqued  and  angered  by  the  discovery  that  a  man 
who  is  worth  while  is  stronger  than  any  of  his  pas 
sions,  even  the  strongest,  even  love." 

"  When  a  woman  gives,  she  gives  all." 

"  Not  a  woman  such  as  you  are.  And  that's  why 
I  know  you  will  recover,  will  go  on,  the  stronger  and, 
some  day,  the  happier  for  it.  The  broken  bone,  when 
it  has  healed,  is  stronger  than  one  that  has  never  been 
broken — and  the  broken  heart  also.  The  world  owes  its 
best  to  strong  hearts  that  have  been  broken  and  have 
healed."  He  let  her  reflect  on  this  before  he  repeated, 
"  You  should  go  abroad." 

"Not  yet — not  just  yet." 

"  Soon,"  said  he.  "  It  will  be  painful  for  you  to 
stay  here — especially  as  the  truth  about  him  is  coming 
out  now." 

"  The  truth !  "  she  exclaimed.  Her  look,  like  a  deer 
that  has  just  caught  the  first  faint  scent  and  sound 
of  alarm,  warned  him  he  had  blundered. 

"  Oh,  nothing  new,"  replied  he  carelessly.  "  You 
know  the  life  of  shame  they  lead,  downtown." 

"But  what  of  him?"  she  insisted.  She  was  sit 
ting  up  in  her  chair  now,  her  face,  her  whole  body, 
alert. 

"  I  hear  he  went  too  far — or  put  a  paw  on  prey 
that  belonged  to  some  one  of  the  lions.  So,  he's  going 


NEVA    SOLVES   A    RIDDLE 

to  get  his  deserts.  Not  that  he's  any  worse  than  the 
others.  In  fact,  he's  the  superior  of  most  of  them 
— unless  you  choose  to  think  a  man  who  has  remnants 
of  decent  instinct  left  and  goes  against  them  is  worse 
than  the  fellow  who  is  rotten  through  and  through  and 
doesn't  know  any  better."  Raphael  realized  he  was 
floundering  in  deeper  and  deeper  with  every  word ;  but 
he  dared  not  stop,  and  so  went  floundering  on,  more 
and  more  confused.  "  You'll  not  sympathize  with  him, 
when  the  facts  are  revealed.  It's  all  his  own  fault." 

A  long  pause,  with  him  watching  her  in  dread  as 
she  sat  lost  in  thought.  Presently  she  came  back,  drew 
a  long  breath,  said,  "  Yes,  all  and  altogether  his  own 
fault." 

He  felt  enormously  relieved.  "  Come  abroad !  "  he 
cried.  "  Yours  is  simply  a  case  of  a  woman's  being 
irritated  by  indifference  into  some  emotion  which,  for 
lack  of  another  name,  she  calls  love.  Come  abroad  and 
forget  it  all.  Come  abroad!  Art  is  there,  and 
dreams  !  Paris — Italy — flowers — light — and  love,  per 
haps.  Come — Neva!  Do  you  want  fame?  Art  will 
give  you  that.  Do  you  want  love  ?  "  Her  quickened 
breath,  her  widening,  wistful  eyes  made  him  boldly 
abandon  the  pretense  that  he  was  lingering  with  her 
in  friendship's  by-path,  made  him  strike  into  the  main 
road,  the  great  highway.  "  I  will  give  you  love,  if 
you'll  not  shut  your  heart  against  me.  You  and  I 
have  been  happy  together,  haven't  we — in  our  work — 
happy  many  an  hour,  many  a  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  admitted.  "  I  owe  you  all  the  real 
happiness  I've  ever  had." 

"  Over  there,  with  all  this  far  away  and  vague — 
over  there,  you  would  quite  forget.  And  happiness 
would  come.  What  pictures  we  would  paint !  What 
22  329 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

thoughts!  What  dreams!  You  still  have  youth — all 
of  the  summer,  all  of  the  autumn,  and  a  long,  long 
Indian  summer.  But  no  one  has  youth  enough  to  waste 
•any  of  it.  Come,  Neva.  Life  is  holding  the  brimming, 
sparkling  glass  to  your  lips.  Drink !  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  seemed  Life  itself  embodied;  she 
could  not  but  feel  as  if  soft  light  and  sweet  sound 
and  the  intoxicating  odor  of  summer  were  flooding, 
billow  on  billow,  into  the  sick  chamber  where  her  heart 
lay  aching. 

"  If  I  can,"  she  said.  And  her  glance  made  him 
think  of  morning  sunbeams  on  leaping  waters.  "  If 
I  can.  .  .  .  What  a  strange,  stubborn  thing  a  sense 
of  duty  is !  " 

"  You're  really  just  as  far  from  your  father  here 
as  you  would  be  there." 

"  I  can't  explain,"  said  she.     "  I'll  think  it  over." 

And  he  saw  he  would  have  to  be  content  with  that 
for  the  present. 

About  eleven  that  night  Armstrong,  his  nerves  on 
edge  from  long,  incessant  pacing  of  the  cage  in  which 
Atwater  had  him  securely  entrapped,  was  irritated  by 
a  knock  at  his  door.  "  Come  in ! "  he  called  sharply. 

He  heard  the  door,  which  was  behind  him,  open  and 
close  with  less  noise  than  the  hall  boy  ever  made.  Then 
nothing  but  the  profound  silence  again. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  demanded,  turning  in  his 
chair — he  was  sitting  before  an  open  fire. 

He  started  up,  instantly  recognized  her,  though 
her  figure  was  swathed  in  an  opera  wrap,  and  the  lace 
scarf  over  and  about  her  head  concealed  her  features 
without  suggesting  intent. 

"  I  was  at  the  opera,"  she  began.  "  All  at  once — 
330 


NEFA    SOLVES   A    RIDDLE 

just  before  the  last  act — I  felt  I  must  see  you — must 
see  you  to-night.  I  knew  you'd  not  come  to  me.  So, 
I  had  to  come  to  you."  And  she  advanced  to  the  mid 
dle  of  the  room.  As  he  made  no  movement  toward  her, 
said  nothing,  she  flung  aside  the  scarf  and  opened  her 
wrap  with  a  single  graceful  gesture.  She  was  in 
evening  dress,  and  the  upturned  ermine  of  the  collar 
of  her  wrap  made  a  beautiful  setting  for  those  slender 
white  shoulders,  the  firm  round  throat,  the  small, 
lightly  poised  head,  crowned  with  masses  of  bright 
brown  hair. 

He  took  her  hand.  It  was  ice.  "  Come  to  the 
fire,"  said  he. 

"  I'm  cold — with  fright,"  she  explained.  And  then 
he  noted  how  pale  she  was.  "  It  wasn't  easy  to  induce 
the  hall  boy  to  let  me  up  unannounced.  I  told  him 
you  were  expecting  me." 

She  stretched  one  hand,  one  slender,  round,  bare 
arm  toward  the  flames.  She  put  one  foot  on  the  fen 
der,  and  his  glance,  dropping  from  the  allurement  of 
the  slim  fingers,  was  caught  by  the  narrow  pale-gray 
slipper,  its  big  buckle  of  brilliants,  the  web  of  pale- 
gray  translucent  silk  over  her  instep 

"  You've  no  business  here,"  he  said  angrily.  "  You 
must  go  at  once." 

"  Not  until  I  am  warm." 

He  looked  as  helpless  as  he  was. 

"Won't  you  smoke — please?"  she  asked,  after  a 
brief  silence. 

He  took  a  cigarette  from  the  box  on  the  table,  in 
mechanical  obedience.  As  he  was  lighting  it,  he  felt 
that  to  smoke  would  somehow  be  a  concession.  He 
tossed  the  cigarette  into  the  fire.  "  You  simply  can't 
stay  here,"  he  cried. 

331 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  I  simply  can't  go,"  she  replied,  "  until  I  am 
warm." 

In  his  nervousness  he  forgot,  lit  a  cigarette,  felt 
he  would  look  absurd  if  he  threw  it  away,  continued 
to  smoke — sullen,  impatient. 

"  Ever  since  you  left,  yesterday,"  she  went  on, 
"  I've  been  thinking  of  what  you  said,  or,  rather,  of 
how  you  said  it.  And  to-night,  sitting  there  with  the 
Morrises,  I  saw  through  your  pretenses." 

He  turned  upon  her  to  make  rude  denial.  But  her 
eyes  stopped  him,  made  him  turn  hastily  away  in  con 
fusion  ;  for  they  gave  him  a  sense  that  she  had  been 
reading  his  inmost  thoughts. 

"  Horace,"  she  said,  "  you  came  to  say  good-by." 

"  Ridiculous,"  he  scoffed,  red  and  awkward. 

"  Horace,  look  at  me." 

His  gaze  slowly  moved  until  it  was  almost  upon 
hers,  and  there  it  rested. 

"  You  have  made  up  your  mind  to  get  out  of  the 
world,  if  they  defeat  you." 

He  laughed  noisily.  "  Absurd !  I'm  not  a  romantic 
person,  like  your  friend  Boris.  I'm  a  plain  man  of 
business.  We  don't  do  melodramatic  things.  .  .  . 
Come !  "  He  took  her  scarf  from  the  chair  where  she 
had  dropped  it.  "  You  must  go." 

For  answer  she  slipped  off  the  cloak,  deliberately 
lined  a  chair  with  it,  and  seated  herself.  "  I  shall  stay," 
said  she,  "  until  I  have  your  promise  not  to  be  a 
coward." 

He  looked  at  her  with  measuring  eyes.  She  was 
yery  pale  and  seemed  slight  and  frail;  her  skin  was 
transparent,  her  expression  ethereal.  But  the  curve  of 
her  chin,  though  oval  and  soft,  was  as  resolute  as  his 
own. 


"'I  felt  I  must  see  you — must  see  you  at  once.'" 


NEVA    SOLVES   A    RIDDLE 

"  You  asked  for  my  friendship,"  she  continued. 
66 1  gave  it.  Now,  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  show 
that  my  words  were  not  an  empty  phrase.  .  .  .  Hor 
ace,  you  are  in  no  condition  to  judge  of  your  own 
affairs.  You  live  alone.  You  have  no  one  you  can 
trust,  no  one  you  can  talk  things  over  with." 

He  nodded  in  assent. 

"  You  must  tell  me  the  whole  story.  Bring  it  out 
of  the  darkness  where  you've  been  brooding  over  it. 
You  can  trust  me.  Just  talking  about  it  will  give 
you  a  new,  a  clearer  point  of  view." 

"  To-morrow — perhaps  I'll  come  to  you,"  he  said, 
his  voice  hushed  and  strained.  "  But  you  mustn't  stay 
here.  You've  come  on  impulse " 

"  Where  her  reputation's  concerned  a  woman  never 
acts  on  impulse.  You  might  not  come  to-morrow.  It 
must  be  to-night."  Her  voice  was  as  strange  as  his 
had  been,  was  so  low  that  its  distinctness  seemed  weird 
and  ghostly.  "  Come,  Horace,  drop  your  silly  melo- 
dramatics — for  it's  you  that  are  acting  melodrama. 
Can't  you  see,  can't  you  feel,  that  I  am  indeed  your 
friend?" 

He  seated  himself  and  reflected,  she  watching  him. 
The  stillness  had  the  static  terror  of  a  room  where  a 
soul  is  about  to  leave  or  about  to  enter  the  world. 
It  was  not  her  words  and  her  manner  that  had  moved 
him,  direct  and  convincing  though  they  were;  it  was 
the  far  subtler  revelation  of  her  inmost  self,  and, 
through  that,  of  a  whole  vast  area  of  human  nature 
which  he  had  not  believed  to  exist.  Suddenly,  with 
a  look  in  his  eyes  which  had  never  been  there  before, 
he  reached  out  and  took  her  hand.  "  You  don't  know 
what  this  means  to  me,"  he  said  in  a  slow,  quiet  voice. 
And  he  released  her  hand  and  went  to  lean  his  fore- 

333 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

head  against  the  tall  shelf  of  the  chimney-piece,  his 
face  hidden  from  her. 

She  did  not  interrupt  his  thoughts  and  his  emo 
tions  until  he  was  lighting  a  fresh  cigarette  at  the 
table.  Then  she  said,  "  Now,  tell  me — won't  you, 
please  ?  " 

"  It's  a  long  story,"  he  began. 

"  Don't  try  to  make  it  short,"  urged  she.  And  she 
settled  herself  comfortably. 

It  took  him  an  hour  to  tell  it ;  they  discussed  it  for 
an  hour  and  a  half  afterwards.  Whenever  he  became 
uneasy  about  the  time,  she  quieted  him  by  questions  or 
comments  that  made  him  feel  her  interest  and  forget 
the  clock.  At  the  last  quarter  before  two,  he  rose  de 
terminedly.  "  I'm  going  to  put  you  into  a  cab,"  said 
he.  "  You  have  accomplished  all  you  came  for — and 
more — a  great  deal  more." 

She  made  no  attempt  to  stay  on  longer.  He  helped 
her  into  her  cloak,  helped  her  to  adjust  the  scarf  so 
that  it  would  conceal  her  face.  They  were  both  hys 
terically  happy,  laughing  much  at  little  or  nothing. 
He  rang  for  the  elevator,  then  they  dashed  down  the 
stairs  and  escaped  into  the  street  before  the  car  could 
ascend  and  descend  again.  At  the  corner  where  there 
was  a  cab  stand,  he  drew  her  into  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  entrance  to  the  church,  took  both  her  hands  be 
tween  his.  "  It  will  be  a  very  different  fight  from  the 
one  I  was  planning  when  you  came,"  said  he. 

"  And  you'll  win,"  asserted  she  confidently. 

"  Yes,  I'll  win.  At  least,  I'll  not  lose — thanks  to 
you,  Neva."  He  laughed  quietly.  "  When  I'm  old, 
I'll  be  able  to  tell  how  once  the  sun  shone  at  mid 
night  and  summer  burst  out  of  the  icy  heart  of 
January." 

334. 


NEVA    SOLVES   A    RIDDLE 

She  nodded  gayly.  "  Pretty  good  for  a  plain  busi 
ness  man,"  said  she. 

Another  moment  and  she  was  in  the  cab  and  away, 
he  standing  at  the  curb  watching  with  an  expression 
that  made  the  two  remaining  cabmen  grin  and  wink 
at  each  other  by  the  light  of  the  street  lamp. 


335 


XXV 

TWO    WOMEN    INTERVENE 

"  IF  I  could  find  some  way  of  detaching  Trafford 
from  Atwater,"  Armstrong  had  said  to  her  as  he  was 
explaining.  "  But,"  he  had  added,  "  that's  hopeless. 
He's  more  afraid  of  Atwater  than  of  anybody  or  any 
thing  on  earth — and  well  he  may  be."  Neva  seized 
upon  the  chance  remark,  without  saying  anything  to 
him.  She  knew  the  Traffords  well,  knew  therefore  that 
there  was  one  person  of  whom  his  fear  was  greater 
than  of  Atwater,  and  whose  influence  over  him  was  ab 
solute.  Early  the  following  morning  she  called  the 
Traffords  on  the  telephone.  Mrs.  Trafford  was  in  the 
country,  she  learned,  but  would  be  home  in  the  after 
noon.  Neva  left  a  message  that  she  wished  particu 
larly  to  see  her ;  at  five  o'clock  she  was  shown  into  the 
truly  palatial  room  in  which  Mrs.  Trafford  always  had 
tea. 

"  Narcisse  has  just  left,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford. 
"  She's  been  rummaging  for  me  in  Letty  Morris's  rag 
bag — you  know,  my  husband  bought  it.  She  has 
found  a  few  things,  but  not  much.  Still,  Letty  wasn't 
cheated  any  worse  than  most  people.  The  trash!  The 
trash!" 

Neva  was  too  intent  upon  her  purpose  to  think  of 
her  surroundings  that  day;  but  she  had  often  before 
been  moved  to  a  variety  of  emotions,  none  of  them 

336 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

approaching  admiration  or  approval  or  even  tolerance, 
by  Mrs.  Trafford's  procession  of  halls  and  rooms  in 
gilt  and  carving  and  brocade,  by  the  preposterous 
paintings,  the  glaring  proclamation  from  every  wall 
and  every  floor  and  every  ceiling  of  the  alternately 
arid  and  atrocious  taste  of  the  fashionable  architects 
and  connoisseurs  to  whom  Mrs.  Trafford  had  trusted. 
As  in  all  great  houses,  the  beauties  were  incidental  and 
isolated,  deformed  by  the  general  effect  of  coarse  ap 
peal  to  barbaric  love  of  the  thing  that  is  gaudy  and 
looks  costly. 

"You  aren't  going  to  move  into  Letty's  house?" 
said  Neva  absently.  She  was  casting  about  for  some 
not  too  abrupt  beginning. 

"  Heavens,  no !  "  protested  Mrs.  Trafford,  in  hor 
ror  and  indigation.  "  John  bought  it — some  time  ago. 
I  don't  know  why."  She  laughed.  "  But  I  do  know 
he  wishes  he  hadn't  now.  He  wouldn't  tell  me  the  price 
he  paid.  I  suspect  he  found  out  that  he  had  made  a 
bad  bargain  as  soon  as  it  was  too  late.  There's  some 
mystery  about  his  buying  that  house.  I  don't — " 
Mrs.  Trafford  broke  off.  Well  as  she  knew  Neva,  and 
intimate  and  confidential  though  she  was  with  her,  de 
spite  Neva's  reserve — indeed,  perhaps  because  of  it- 
still,  she  was  careful  about  Trafford's  business.  And 
Neva  and  Letty  were  cousins — not  intimates  or  espe 
cially  friendly,  but  nevertheless  blood  relations.  "  I 
suppose  he's  ashamed  of  not  having  consulted  me," 
she  ended. 

"  How  is  Mr.  Trafford?  "  asked  Neva.  "  I  haven't 
seen  him  for  months.  He  must  be  working  very 
hard?" 

"  He  thinks  he  is.  But,  my  dear,  I  found  the  men 
out  long,  long  ago,  in  their  pretense  of  hard  work. 

337 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

They  talk  a  great  deal  downtown,  and  smoke  and  eat 
a  great  deal.  But  they  work  very  little — even  those 
that  have  the  reputation  of  working  the  hardest. 
Business — with  the  upper  class  men — is  a  good  deal 
like  fishing,  I  guess.  They  spread  their  nets  or  drop 
their  hooks  and  wait  for  fish.  My  husband  is  killing 
himself,  eating  directors'  lunches.  You  know,  they 
provide  a  lunch  for  the  directors,  for  those  that  meet 
every  day — and  give  them  a  ten-  or  twenty-dollar  gold 
piece  for  eating  it.  It's  a  huge  dinner — a  banquet, 
and  all  that  have  any  digestion  left  stuff  themselves. 
No  wonder  the  women  hold  together  so  much  better 
than  the  men.  If  the  men  had  to  wear  our  clothes, 
what  sights  they  would  be ! " 

Neva  returned  to  the  business  about  which  she  had 
come.  "  They're  having  an  investigating  committee 
down  there  now,  aren't  they?  " 

"  Not  to  investigate  their  diet,"  said  Mrs.  Traf- 
f  ord.  "  There'd  be  some  sense  in  that.  I  suppose  it's 
another  of  those  schemes  of  the  people  who  haven't 
anything,  to  throw  discredit  on  the  men  who  do  the 
work  of  the  world.  Universal  suffrage  is  a  great 
mistake.  Only  the  propertied  class  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  vote,  don't  you  think  so?  Mr.  Trafford 
says  it's  getting  positively  dreadful,  the  corruption 
good  men  have  to  resort  to,  with  the  legislatures 
and  with  buying  elections,  all  because  everybody  can 
vote." 

"  I've  not  given  the  subject  much  thought,"  said 
Neva.  "  I  heard —  Some  one  was  talking  about  the 
investigating  committee — and  said  it  was  the  begin 
ning  of  another  war  downtown." 

Mrs.  Trafford  looked  amused.  "  I  didn't  dream 
you  had  any  interest  in  that  sort  of  thing.  I  don't 

338 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

see  how  you  can  be  interested.  I  never  let  my  hus 
band  talk  business  to  me." 

"  Usually  I'm  not  interested,"  said  Neva,  now 
fairly  embarked  and  at  ease.  "  But  this  particular 
thing  was — different.  It  seems,  there  are  two  factions 
fighting  for  control  of  some  insurance  companies,  and 
each  is  getting  ready  to  accuse  the  other  of  the  most 
dreadful  things.  Mr.  Atwater's  faction  is  going  to 
expose  Mr.  Fosdick's,  and  Mr.  Fosdick's  is  going  to 
expose  Mr.  Atwater's." 

Mrs.  Trafford's  expression  had  changed.  "  Neva, 
you've  got  a  reason  for  telling  me  this,"  said  she. 

"  Yes,"  frankly  admitted  Neva. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  thought  you — Mr.  Trafford — ought 
to  be  warned  of  what's  coming." 

"What  is  coming?" 

"  I  don't  know  all  the  details.  But,  among  other 
things,  there's  to  be  a  frightful  personal  attack  on 
Mr.  Trafford  because  he  is  one  of  Mr.  Atwater's  al 
lies.  Mr.  Atwater  thinks,  or  pretends,  he  can  prevent 
it;  but  he  can't.  The  attack  is  sure  to  come." 

"  They  couldn't  truthfully  say  anything  against 
Mr.  Trafford,"  said  his  wife,  with  a  heat  that  was 
genuine,  yet  perfunctory,  too.  "  He's  human,  of 
course.  But  I  who  have  lived  with  him  all  these  years 
can  honestly  say  that  he  spends  his  whole  life  in  try 
ing  to  do  good.  He  slaves  for  the  poor  people  who 
have  their  little  all  invested  with  his  company."  Neva 
had  not  smiled,  but  Mrs.  Trafford  went  on,  as  if  she 
had :  "  I  suppose  you're  thinking  that  sounds  familiar. 
Oh,  I  know  every  man  downtown  pretends  he  is  work 
ing  only  for  the  good  of  others,  to  keep  business 
going,  and  to  give  labor  steady  employment,  when  of 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

course  he's  really  working  to  get  rich,  and —  Well, 
somebody  must  be  losing  all  this  money  that's  piling 
up  in  the  hands  of  a  few  people  who  spend  it  in  silly, 
wicked  luxury.  Now,  we  have  always  frowned  on  that 
sort  of  thing.  We — Mr.  Trafford  and  I — set  our 
faces  against  extravagance  and  simply  live  comfort 
ably.  He  often  says,  '  I  don't  know  what  the  coun 
try's  coming  to.  The  men  downtown,  the  leaders,  seem 
to  have  gone  mad.  They  have  no  sense  of  responsi 
bility.  They  aren't  content  with  legitimate  profits, 
but  grab,  grab,  until  I  wonder  people  don't  rise  up.' 
And  he  says  they  will,  though,  of  course,  that 
wouldn't  do  any  good,  as  things'd  just  settle  back  and 
the  same  old  round  would  begin  all  over  again.  If 
people  won't  look  after  their  own  property,  they  can't 
expect  to  keep  it,  can  they?  " 

"  No,"  assented  Neva.  "  Still — I  sometimes  won 
der  that  the  robbing  should  be  done  by  the  class  of 
men  that  does  it.  One  would  think  he  wouldn't  need 
to  protect  himself  against  those  who  claim  to  be  the 
leaders  in  honesty  and  honor.  It's  as  if  one  should 
have  to  lock  up  all  the  valuables  if  the  bishop  came 
to  spend  the  night." 

"  There's  the  shame  of  it !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Traf 
ford.  "  Sometimes  Trafford  tells  me  about  the  men 
that  come  here,  the  really  fine,  distinguished,  gentle 
manly  ones — well,  if  I  could  repeat  some  of  the  things 
to  you ! " 

"  I  should  think,"  suggested  Neva,  "  it  would  be 
dangerous  to  have  business  dealings  with  such  men. 
If  trouble  came,  people  might  not  discriminate." 

Mrs.  Trafford  caught  the  under-meaning  in  Neva's 
words  and  tone.  She  reflected  a  moment — thoughts 
that  made  her  curiously  serious — before  replying, 

340 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

"  Sometimes  I'm  afraid  my  husband  will  get  himself 
into  just  that  sort  of  miserable  mess.  He  is  so  gen 
erous  and  confiding,  and  he  believes  so  implicitly  in 
some  of  those  men  whom  I  don't  believe  in  at  all.  Tell 
me,  Neva,  are  you  sure — about  that  attack,  and  about 
Mr.  Atwater's  being  mistaken  ?  " 

"  There  isn't  a  doubt  of  it,"  replied  Neva.  "  Mr. 
Trafford  ought  not  to  let  anything  anyone  says  to 
the  contrary  influence  him."  And  Mrs.  Trafford's 
opinion  of  her  directness  and  honesty  gave  her  words 
the  greatest  possible  weight. 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  dear,"  said  she. 
"  It  isn't  often  one  gets  a  proof  of  real  friendship  in 
this  walk  of  life." 

"  I  didn't  do  it  altogether  for  your  sake,"  replied 
Neva.  "  It  seemed  to  me,  from  what  I  heard,  that  the 
men  downtown  were  rushing  on  to  do  things  that 
would  result  in  no  good  and  much  harm  and — unhap- 
piness.  I  suppose,  if  evil  has  been  done,  it  ought  to 
be  exposed;  but  I  think,  too,  that  no  good  comes  of 
malicious  and  vengeful  exposures." 

"  Especially  exposures  that  tend  to  make  the  lower 
classes  suspicious  and  unruly,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford. 

Neva  colored  and  glanced  at  the  two  strapping 
men-servants  who  were  removing  the  tea  table.  But 
Mrs.  Trafford  was  quite  unconscious.  A  few  years 
before,  when  the  English  foreign  habit  of  thinking  and 
talking  about  "  lower  classes  "  was  first  introduced,  she 
had  indulged  in  it  sparingly  and  nervously.  But,  fall 
ing  in  with  the  fashion  of  her  set,  she  had  become  as 
bold  as  the  rest  of  these  spoiled  children  of  democracy 
in  spitting  upon  the  parents  and  grandparents.  It  no 
longer  ever  occurred  to  her  to  question  the  meaning 
of  the  glib,  smug,  ignorant  phrase;  and,  like  the  rest, 

341 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

she  did  not  even  restrain  herself  before  the  "  lower 
classes  "  themselves.  It  was  a  settled  conviction  with 
her  that  she  was  of  different  clay  from  the  working 
people,  the  doers  of  manual  labor,  that  their  very 
minds  and  souls  were  different;  the  fact  that  they 
seemed  to  think  and  act  in  much  the  same  way  as  the 
"  upper  classes "  would  have  struck  her,  had  she 
thought  about  it  at  all,  as  a  phenomenon  not  unlike 
the  almost  human  performances  of  a  well-trained,  un 
usually  intelligent  monkey.  Indeed,  she  often  said, 
without  being  aware  of  the  full  implication  of  the 
speech,  "  In  how  many  ways  our  servants  are  like  us !  " 

Neva  went  away,  dissatisfied,  depressed,  as  if  she 
were  retreating  in  defeat.  She  felt  that  she  had  gained 
her  point;  she  understood  Mrs.  TrafFord,  knew  that 
her  dominant  passion  of  spotless  respectability  had 
been  touched,  that  the  fears  which  would  stir  her  most 
deeply  had  been  aroused;  Mrs.  TrafFord,  worldly 
shrewd,  would  put  her  husband  through  a  cross-exam 
ination  which  would  reveal  to  her  the  truth,  and  would 
result  in  her  bringing  to  bear  all  her  authority  over 
him.  And  she  knew  that  Mrs.  TrafFord  could  compel 
her  husband,  where  no  force  which  Armstrong  could 
have  brought  to  bear  downtown  would  have  the  least 
effect  upon  him.  "  I  think  I've  won,"  Neva  said  to 
herself;  but  her  spirits  continued  to  descend.  Before 
the  victory,  she  had  thought  only  about  winning,  not 
at  all  about  what  she  was  struggling  for.  Now  she 
could  think  only  of  that — the  essential. 

Like  almost  all  women  and  all  but  a  few  men,  Neva 
was  densely  ignorant  of  and  wholly  uninterested  in 
business — the  force  that  has  within  a  few  decades  be 
come  titanic  and  has  revolutionized  the  internal  as  well 
as  the  external  basis  of  life  as  completely  as  if  we 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

had  been  whisked  away  to  another  planet.  She  still 
talked  and  tried  to  think  in  the  old  traditional  lines 
in  which  the  books,  grave  and  light,  are  still  written 
and  education  is  still  restricted — although  those  lines 
have  as  absolutely  ceased  to  bear  upon  our  real  life 
as  have  the  gods  of  the  classic  world.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  her  that  what  the  men  did  when  they  went 
to  their  offices  involved  the  whole  of  society  in  all  its 
relations,  touched  her  life  more  intimately  than  even 
her  painting.  But,  without  her  realizing  it,  the  idea 
had  gradually  formed  in  her  mind  that  the  proceedings 
downtown  were  morally  not  unlike  the  occupation  of 
coal-heaver  or  scavenger  physically.  How  strong  this 
impression  was  she  did  not  know  until  she  had  almost 
reached  home,  revolving  the  whole  way  the  thoughts 
that  had  started  as  Trafford's  bronze  doors  closed  be 
hind  her. 

She  recalled  all  Armstrong  and  others  had  told  her 
about  the  sources  of  Trafford's  wealth  —  Trafford, 
with  his  smooth,  plausible  personality  that  left  upon 
the  educated  palate  an  after  taste  like  machine  oil. 
From  Trafford  her  thoughts  hastened  on  to  hover  and 
cluster  about  the  real  perplexity — Armstrong  himself 
— what  he  had  confessed  to  her ;  worse  still,  what  he 
had  told  her  as  matter-of-course,  had  even  boasted  as 
evidence  of  his  ability  at  this  game  which  more  and 
more  clearly  appeared  to  her  as  a  combination  of 
sneak-thieving  and  burglary.  And  heavier  and  heavier 
grew  her  heart.  "  I  have  done  a  shameful  thing,"  she 
said  to  herself,  as  the  whole  repulsive  panorama  un 
rolled  before  her. 

She  was  in  the  studio  building,  was  going  up  in  the 
elevator.  Just  as  it  was  approaching  her  landing, 
Thomas,  the  elevator  boy,  gave  a  sigh  so  penetrating 

343 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

that  she  was  roused  to  look  at  him,  to  note  his  ex 
pression. 

"What  is  it,  Thomas?"  she  asked.  "Can  I  do 
anything  for  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  —  nothing  —  thank  you,"  said  Thomas. 
"  It's  all  over  now.  I  was  just  thinking  back  over 
it." 

She  saw  a  band  of  crape  round  his  sleeve.  "  You 
have  lost  some  one?  "  she  said  gently. 

"  My  father,"  replied  the  boy.  "  He  died  day  be 
fore  yesterday.  And  we  had  to  have  the  money  for 
the  funeral.  We're  all  insured  to  provide  for  that. 
And  my  mother  went  down  to  collect  father's  insur 
ance.  It  was  for  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars. 
We'd  paid  in  a  hundred  and  forty  on  the  policy,  it 
had  been  running  so  long.  And  when  my  mother  went 
to  collect,  they  told  her  they  couldn't  get  it  through 
and  pay  it  for  about  three  weeks — and  she  had  to  have 
the  money  right  away.  So,  they  told  her  to  go  down 
to  some  offices  on  the  floor  below — it  was  a  firm  that's 
in  cahoots  with  them  insurance  sharks.  And  she  went, 
and  they  give  her  eighty-two  dollars  for  the  policy — 
and  she  had  to  take  it  because  we  had  to  bury  father 
right  away.  Only,  they  didn't  give  her  cash.  They 
gave  her  a  credit  with  an  undertaker — he's  in  cahoots, 
too.  And  it  took  all  the  eighty-two  dollars,  and  father 
was  buried  like  a  pauper,  at  that.  I  tell  you,  Miss 
Carlin,  it's  mighty  hard."  His  voice  broke.  "  Them 
rich  people  make  a  fellow  pay  for  being  poor  and  hav 
ing  no  pull.  That's  the  way  we  get  it  soaked  to  us, 
right  and  left,  especially  in  sickness  or  hard  luck  or 
death." 

Neva  lingered,  though  she  could  not  trust  herself 
to  speak. 

344 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

"You  wouldn't  think,"  Thomas  went  on,  "that 
such  things'd  be  done  by  such  a  company  as " 

"  Don't !  "  cried  Neva,  pressing  her  hands  hysteri 
cally  to  her  ears.  "  I  mustn't  hear  what  company  it 
was!" 

And  she  rushed  from  the  car  and  fled  into  her 
apartment,  all  unstrung.  At  last,  at  last,  she  not 
merely  knew  but  felt,  and  felt  with  all  her  sensitive 
heart,  the  miseries  of  thousands,  of  hundreds  of  thou 
sands,  out  of  which  those  "  great  men  "  wrought  their 
careers — those  "  great  men  "  of  whom  her  friend  Arm 
strong  was  one! 

Trafford  reached  home  at  half  past  six  and,  fol 
lowing  his  custom,  went  directly  to  his  dressing  room. 
Instead  of  his  valet,  he  found  his  wife — seated  before 
the  fire,  evidently  waiting  for  him.  "  Is  the  door 
closed?"  she  said.  "And  you'd  better  draw  the  cur 
tain  over  it." 

"Well,  well,"  he  cried,  all  cheerfulness.  "What 
now?  Have  the  servants  left  in  a  body?  "  It  had  been 
a  banner  day  downtown,  with  several  big  nets  he  had 
helped  to  set  filled  to  overflowing,  and  the  fish  run 
ning  well  at  all  his  nets,  seines,  lines,  and  trap-ponds. 
He  felt  the  jolly  fisherman,  at  peace  with  God  and 
man,  brimming  generosity. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  that  investigation," 
said  his  wife  in  a  tone  that  cleared  his  face  instantly 
of  all  its  sparkling  good  humor. 

"  Whatever  started  you  in  that  direction  ?  "  he  ex 
claimed.  "  Don't  bother  your  head  about  it,  my  dear. 
There'll  be  no  investigation.  Not  that  I  was  afraid 
of  it.  Thank  God,  I've  always  tried  to  live  as  if  each 
moment  were  to  be  my  last." 
23  345 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Mr.  Atwater  is  going  to  attack  Mr.  Fosdick, 
isn't  he?" 

Trafford  showed  his  amazement.  "  Why,  where  did 
you  hear  that  ?  " 

"  And  he  thinks  Mr.  Fosdick  and  his  friends  won't 
be  able  to  retort,"  continued  Mrs.  Trafford.  "  Well, 
he's  mistaken.  They  are  going  to  retort.  And  you 
are  the  man  they'll  attack  the  most  furiously." 

Trafford  sat  down  abruptly.  All  the  men  who  are 
able  to  declare  for  themselves  and  their  families  such 
splendid  dividends  in  cash  upon  a  life  of  self-sacrifice 
to  humanity,  are  easily  perturbed  by  question  or  threat 
of  question.  Trafford,  with  about  as  much  courage  as 
a  white  rabbit,  had  only  to  imagine  the  possibility  of 
being  looked  at  sharply,  to  be  thrown  into  inward 
tremors  like  the  beginnings  of  sea-sickness. 

"  It  don't  matter,"  continued  his  wife,  "  whether 
you  are  innocent  or  not.  They  are  going  to  hold 
you  up  to  public  shame." 

"Who  told  you  this?" 

"  Neva." 

"  She  must  have  got  it  from  the  Morrises — or 
Armstrong." 

"  She  came  here  especially  to  tell  me,  and  she  would 
not  have  come  if  she  did  not  know  it  was  serious." 

"  They  sent  her  here  to  frighten  me,"  said  Traf 
ford.  "  Yes,  that's  it !  "  And  he  rose  and  paced  the 
floor,  repeating  now  aloud  and  now  to  himself,  "  That's 
it!  That's  undoubtedly  it." 

"  Tell  me  the  whole  story,"  commanded  his  wife, 
when  the  limit  of  her  patience  with  his  childishness  had 
been  reached.  "  You  need  an  outside  point  of  view." 

She  had  told  Neva  she  never  permitted  Trafford  to 
talk  business  with  her.  In  fact,  he  consulted  her  at 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

every  crisis,  both  to  get  courage  and  to  get  advice. 
He  now  hastened  to  comply.  "  It's  very  simple.  Some 
time  ago,  a  few  of  us  who  like  to  see  things  run 
on  safe,  conservative  lines,  decided  that  Fosdick's  and 
Armstrong's  management  of  the  O.  A.  D.  was  a 
menace  to  stability.  Armstrong  and  Fosdick  had 
quarreled.  It  was  Armstrong  who  came  to  us  and 
suggested  our  interfering.  I  thought  the  man  was 
honest,  and  I  did  everything  I  could  to  help  him  and 
Morris." 

"  Including  buying  Morris's  house,"  interjected 
Mrs.  Trafford,  to  prevent  him  from  so  covering  the 
truth  with  cant  that  it  would  be  invisible  to  her. 

"That  did  figure  in  it,"  admitted  Trafford,  in 
some  confusion.  "  Then,  we  found  out  they  were  sim 
ply  using  us  to  get  control  of  the  O.  A.  D.  for  them 
selves.  So  we — Atwater  and  Langdon  and  I — ar 
ranged  quietly  to  drop  them  into  their  own  trap. 
We've  done  it — that's  all.  Next  week  we're  going  to 
expose  them  and  their  false  committee ;  and  the  policy 
holders  of  the  O.  A.  D.  will  be  glad  to  put  their  in 
terests  in  the  hands  of  men  we  can  keep  in  order.  Fos 
dick  and  Armstrong  can't  retaliate.  We've  got  the 
press  with  us,  and  have  made  every  arrangement. 
Anything  they  say  will  be  branded  at  once  as  malicious 
lies." 

"What  kind  of  malicious  lies  will  they  tell?" 

"How  should  I  know?"  And  Trafford  preened, 
with  his  small,  precisely  clad  figure  at  its  straightest. 

"  But  you  do  know,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford  slowly  and 
with  acidlike  significance. 

Trafford  made  no  reply  in  words.  His  face,  how 
ever,  was  eloquent. 

"  You've  been  hypnotized  by  Atwater,"  pursued 
347 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

Mrs.  Trafford.  "  You  think  him  more  powerful  than 
lie  is.  And — he  isn't  in  any  insurance  company  di 
rectly,  is  he?" 

"  No." 

"Mr.  Langdori?" 

"  No — they  keep  in  the  background."  Trafford' s 
upper  lip  was  trembling  so  that  she  could  see  it  despite 
his  mustache. 

"  Then  you'll  be  right  out  in  front  of  the  guns. 
You — alone." 

"  There  aren't  any  guns." 

.;,  "  I'm  surprised  at  you ! "  exclaimed  his  wife. 
**  Don't  you  know  Horace  Armstrong  better  than 
that!" 

"  The  treacherous  hound !  " 

"  He  has  his  bad  side,  I  suppose,  like  everybody 
else,"  said  Mrs.  Trafford,  who  felt  that  it  was  not  wise 
to  humor  him  in  his  prejudices  that  evening.  "  His 
character  isn't  important  just  now.  It's  his  ability 
you've  got  to  consider." 

"  Atwater's  got  him  helpless." 

"  Impossible !  "  declared  Mrs.  Trafford,  in  a  voice 
that  would  have  been  convincing  to  him,  had  her  words 
and  his  own  doubts  been  far  less  strong.  "  You  may 
count  on  it  that  there's  to  be  a  frightful  attack  on  you 
next  week.  Neva  Carlin  knew  what  she  was  about." 

"  There's  nothing  they  can  say — nothing  that  any- 
body'd  believe."  His  whiskers  and  his  hair  were 
combed  to  give  him  a  resolute,  courageous  air.  The 
contrast  between  this  artificial  bold  front  and  the  look 
and  voice  now  issuing  from  it  was  ludicrous  and 
pitiful. 

Mrs.  Trafford  flashed  scorn  at  him.  "  What  non 
sense  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  never  heard  of  a  big  busi- 

348 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

ness  that  could  stand  it  to  have  the  doors  thrown  open 
and  the  public  invited  to  look  where  it  pleased.  1 
doubt  if  yours  is  an  exception,  whatever  you  may- 
think." 

"  But  the  doors  won't  be  thrown  open,"  he  pleaded 
rather  than  protested.  "  Our  private  business  will  re 
main  private." 

"  Armstrong  is  going  to  attack  you,  I  tell  you. 
He's  not  the  man  to  fire  unless  he  has  a  shot  in  his- 
gun — and  powder  behind  it." 

"  But  he  can't.  He  knows  nothing  against  me." 
And  Trafford  seated  himself  as  if  he  were  squelching 
his  own  doubts  and  fears. 

"  He  knows  as  much  about  the  inside  of  your  com 
pany  as  you  know  about  the  inside  of  his.  You  can 
assume  that." 

Trafford  shifted  miserably  in  his  chair. 

"  What  reason  have  you  to  suppose  that  as  keen  a 
man  as  he  is  would  not  make  it  his  business  to  find 
out  all  about  his  rivals  ?  " 

"What  if  he  does  know?"  blustered  Trafford, 
"  To  hear  you  talk,  my  dear,  you'd  think  I  ran  some 
sort  of — of  a  " — with  a  nervous  little  laugh — "  an  un 
lawful  resort." 

"  I  know  you  wouldn't  do  anything  you  thought 
was  wrong,"  replied  his  wife,  in  a  strained,  insincere 
voice.  "  But  —  sometimes  the  public  doesn't  judge 
things  fairly." 

"  People  who  have  risen  to  our  position  must  ex 
pect  calumny."  He  was  of  the  color  of  fear  and  his 
fingers  and  his  mouth  and  his  eyelids  were  twitching. 

"  What  difference  would  it  make  to  Atwater  and 
Langdon,  if  you  were  disgraced? "  she  urged. 
"  Mightn't  they  even  profit  by  it?  " 

349 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

At  this  he  jumped  up,  and  began  to  pace  the  floor. 
"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself ! "  he  cried. 
"  To  put  suspicion  in  my  head  against  these  honorable 
men!" 

"  I  want  you  to  protect  yourself  and  your  family," 
she  retorted  crushingly.  "  The  temptation  to  make 
a  little  more  money,  or  a  good  deal  more,  ought  not 
to  lead  you  to  risk  your  reputation.  Look  at  the  men 
that  were  disgraced  by  that  last  investigation." 

"  But  they  had  done  wrong." 

"  They  don't  think  so,  do  they  ?  How  do  you  know 
what  some  of  the  things  you've  done  will  look  like 
when  they're  blazoned  in  the  newspapers  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  afraid !  "  declaimed  Trafford,  fright  in 
his  eyes  and  in  his  noisy  voice. 

"  No,"  said  his  wife  soothingly.  "  Of  course, 
you've  done  nothing  wrong.  You  needn't  tell  me  that. 
But  it's  just  as  bad  to  be  misunderstood  as  to  be 
guilty." 

During  the  silence  which  fell  he  paced  the  floor 
like  a  man  running  away,  and  she  gazed  thoughtfully 
into  the  fire.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was  with  a 
subdued,  nervous  manner  and  as  if  she  were  telling 
him  something  which  she  wished  him  to  think  she  did 
not  understand.  "  One  day  I  was  driving  in  the  East 
Side,  looking  after  some  of  my  poor.  There  was  a 
block — in  the  Hester  Street  market.  A  crowd  got 
around  the  carriage,  and  a  man — a  dreadful,  dirty, 
crazy-eyed  creature — called  out,  '  There's  the  wife  of 
the  blood-sucker  Trafford,  that  swindles  the  poor  on 
burial  insurance ! '  And  the  crowd  hissed  and  hooted 
at  me,  and  shook  their  fists.  And  a  woman  spat  into 
the  carriage."  Mrs.  Trafford  paused  before  going 
on :  "I  get  a  great  many  anonymous  letters.  I  never 

350 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

have  worried  you  about  these  things.     You  have  your 
troubles,  and  I  knew  it  was  all  false.     But " 

Her  voice  ceased.  For  several  minutes,  oppres 
sive  and  menacing  silence  brooded  over  that  ostenta 
tious  room.  Its  costly  comforts  and  costlier  luxuries 
weighed  upon  the  husband  and  wife,  so  far  removed 
from  the  squalor  of  those  whose  earnings  had  been 
filched  to  create  this  pitiful,  yet  admired,  flaunting  of 
vanity.  Finally  he  said,  speaking  almost  under  his 
breath,  "  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  " 

Although  she  had  long  had  ready  her  answer  to 
that  inevitable  question,  she  waited  before  replying. 
"  Not  to  pull  Atwater's  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire  for 
him,"  said  she  slowly.  "  Stop  the  attack.  I've  an 
instinct  that  evil  will  come  of  it — evil  to  us.  Let 
Armstrong  alone.  If  he's  not  managing  his  business 
right,  what  concern  is  it  of  yours?  And  if  you  try 
to  get  it,  what  if,  instead  of  making  money,  you  lose 
your  reputation — maybe,  more?  What  does  Atwater 
risk?  Nothing.  What  does  Langdon  risk?  Nothing. 
What  do  you  risk?  Evervthing.  That's  not  sensible, 
is  it?" 

"  But  I  can't  go  back  on  Atwater,"  he  objected  in 
the  tone  that  begs  to  be  overruled.  "  Armstrong 
would  attack  me,  anyhow,  and  I'd  simply  have  both 
sides  against  me." 

She  turned  upon  him,  amazed,  terrified.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you've  got  no  hold  on  Atwater?  "  she 
exclaimed. 

"  I  am  a  gentleman,  dealing  with  gentlemen,"  said 
he,  with  dignity. 

She  made  a  gesture  of  contempt.  "  But  suppose 
Atwater  should  prove  not  to  be  a  gentleman — what 
then?" 

351 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  He'd  hesitate  to  play  fast  and  loose  with  me," 
Traff ord  now  confessed.  "  He  owes  our  allied  insti 
tutions  too  many  millions." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  relieved.  Then — "  And  what  pre 
caution  has  he  taken  against  your  deserting  him?  " 

"  None,  so  far  as  I  know,  except  that  he  would 
probably  join  in  Armstrong's  attack.  But,  my  dear, 
you  entirely  misunderstand.  Atwater  and  I  have  the 
same  interests.  We " 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  she  interrupted  impatiently. 
"  What  I'm  trying  to  get  at  is  how  you  can  induce 
him  to  come  to  an  agreement  with  Armstrong.  Can 
you  think  of  no  way  ?  " 

"  I  had  never  contemplated  this  emergency,"  he 
replied  apologetically.  His  conduct  now  seemed  to 
him  to  have  been  headlong,  imbecile. 

"  You  must  do  something  this  very  night,"  said 
his  wife.  "  There  might  be  a  change  of  plan  on  one 
side  or  the  other.  You  must  see  that  your  position, 
unprotected  among  these  howling  beasts,  is  perilous." 

At  that,  Trafford  fell  to  trembling  so  violently 
that,  ashamed  though  he  was  to  have  any  human  being, 
even  his  wife,  see  the  coward  in  him,  he  yet  could  not 
steady  himself.  "  I  can  offer  Armstrong  peace  and 
a  voice  in  our  company.  If  he  accepts,  I  can  stop 
Atwater.  I  can  frankly  show  him  that  I  am  not  pre 
pared  to  withstand  an  attack  and  that  it  is  surely 
coming.  He  will  not  refuse.  He  won't  dare.  Be 
sides — "  He  stopped  suddenly. 

"Besides— what?" 

"  It  is  upon  me — upon  my  men — that  Atwater 
relies  to  make  the  attack.  He  hasn't  the  necessary 
information — at  least,  I  don't  think  he  has." 

Mrs.  Trafford  gave  a  long  sigh  of  relief.  "  Why 
352 


TWO    WOMEN   INTERVENE 

didn't  you  say  that  at  first  ?  "  she  cried.  "  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  put  Atwater  off  and  make  terms  with 
Armstrong." 

"  Atwater  is  a  very  dangerous  man  to  have  as  an 
enemy." 

"  But  he's  not  a  fool.  He'll  never  blame  you  for 
saving  yourself  from  destruction." 

Neither  seemed  to  realize  how  much  of  their  secret 
thought — thought  not  clearly  admitted  even  to  their 
secret  selves — was  revealed  in  her  using  that  terrible 
word,  and  in  his  accepting  it. 

He  glanced  at  his  watch.     "  I  think  I'll  go  now." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  she.  "  This  is  the  best  time  to 
catch  them.  They'll  be  dressing  for  dinner." 

And  he  hurried  away. 


353 


XXVI 

TRAFFORD    AS    DOVE    OF    PEACE 

As  Trafford  sprang  from  his  cab  at  Armstrong's 
hotel,  Armstrong  was  just  entering  the  door.  "  Mr. 
Armstrong !  Mr.  Armstrong !  "  he  cried,  hastening 
after  him. 

The  big,  easy-going-looking  Westerner — still  the 
Westerner,  though  his  surface  was  thoroughly  East- 
ernized — turned  and  glanced  quizzically  down  at  the 
small,  prim-looking  Trafford.  "  Hello !  What  do  you 
want?" 

"  To  see  you  for  a  few  minutes,  if  it  is  quite  con 
venient,"  replied  Trafford,  still  more  nervous  before 
Armstrong's  good-natured  contempt. 

"  A  very  few  minutes,"  conceded  the  big  man. 
"  I've  a  pressing  engagement." 

They  went  up  to  his  apartment.  As  he  opened  the 
door,  he  saw  a  note  on  the  threshold.  "  Excuse  me," 
he  said,  picking  it  up,  and  so  precipitate  that  he  did 
not  stand  aside  to  let  Trafford  enter  first.  In  the 
sitting  room  he  turned  on  the  light,  tore  open  the 
note  and  read ;  and  Trafford  noted  with  dismay  that, 
as  he  read,  his  face  darkened.  It  was  a  note  from 
Neva,  saying  that  she  had  just  got  a  telegram  from 
home,  that  her  father  was  ill;  she  had  scrawled  the 
note  as  she  and  Molly  were  rushing  away  to  catch  the 
train.  He  glanced  up,  saw  Trafford.  "  Oh — beg 

354 


TRAFFORD   AS  DOVE   OF  PEACE 

pardon — sit  down."  And  he  read  the  note  again ;  and 
again  his  mind  wandered  away  into  the  gloom.  Once 
more,  after  a  moment  or  two,  his  eyes  reminded  him 
of  Trafford.  "  Beg  pardon — a  most  annoying  mes 
sage —  Do  sit  down.  Have  a  cigar?" 

"  Not  at  present,  thank  you,"  said  Trafford  in  his 
precise  way,  reminiscent  of  the  far  days  when  he  had 
taught  school. 

"Well — what  can  I  do  for  you?"  inquired  Arm 
strong,  adding  to  himself,  "  This  is  Atwater's  first 
move."  But  he  was  not  interested;  his  mind  was  on 
Neva,  on  the  note  that  had  chilled  him — "  unreason 
ably,"  he  muttered,  "  yet,  she  might  have  put  in  just 
the  one  word — or  something." 

Trafford  saw  that  he  had  no  part  of  Armstrong's 
attention.  He  coughed. 

"  If  you  can  give  me — "  he  began. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Armstrong  impatiently.  "  What 
is  it?  You  can't  expect  me  to  be  enthusiastic,  ex 
actly,  about  you,  you  know.  I  didn't  expect  anything 
of  the  others ;  but  I  was  idiot  enough  to  think  you 
weren't  altogether  shameless — you,  the  principal  owner 
of  the  Hearth  and  Home !  "  Armstrong's  sarcasm  was 
savage. 

"  You  are  evidently  laboring  under  some  misappre 
hension,  Mr.  Armstrong,"  cried  Trafford,  pulling  at 
his  neat  little  beard,  while  one  of  his  neat  little  feet 
tapped  the  carpet  agitatedly. 

"  Bosh !  "  said  Armstrong.  "  I  know  all  about  you. 
Don't  lie  to  me.  What  do  you  want?  Come  to  the 
point !  " 

There  was  a  pink  spot  in  each  of  Trafford's  cheeks. 
"  I  have  been  much  distressed,"  said  he,  "  at  the  con 
fusion  downtown,  at  the  strained  relations  between  in- 

355 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

terests  that  ought  to  be  working  together  in  harmony 
for  the  general  good."  Armstrong's  frown  hastened 
him.  "  I  have  come  to  see  if  it  isn't  possible  to  bring 
about  good  feeling  and  peace." 

"  You  come  from  Atwater  ?  " 

"  No— that  is— Frankly,  no." 

Armstrong  rose  with  a  gesture  of  dismissal. 
"  We're  wasting  time.  Atwater  is  the  man.  Unless 
you  have  some  authority  from  him,  I'll  not  detain 
you." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  Trafford,  in  a  ferment 
to  the  very  depths  now,  because  convinced  by  Arm 
strong's  manner  that  he  was  not  dealing  with  a  beaten 
man  but  with  one  champing  for  the  fray.  "  You  do 
not  seem  to  hear  me,"  he  implored.  "  I  tell  you  I  can 
make  terms.  In  this  matter  Atwater  is  dependent 
upon  me" 

"  You've  come  about  the  attack  he's  going  to  make 
on  the  O.  A.  D.?" 

"  Precisely.  I've  come  to  arrange  to  stop  it,  to 
say  I  wish  to  make  no  attack." 

"  You  mean,  you  don't  wish  to  be  attacked,"  re 
joined  Armstrong  with  a  cold  laugh  that  made  Traf- 
ford's  flesh  creep.  "  By  the  time  Morris  gets  through 
with  you,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  possibly  be  kept 
out  of  the  penitentiary.  He  has  all  the  necessary 
facts.  I  think  he  can  compel  you  to  disgorge  at  least 
two  thirds  of  what  you've  stolen  and  salted  away.  I 
don't  see  where  you  got  the  courage  to  go  into  a  fight, 
when  you're  such  an  easy  target.  The  wonder  is  you 
weren't  caught  and  sent  up  years  ago." 

"  This  is  strange  language,  very  strange  lan 
guage,"  said  Trafford  in  an  injured  tone,  and  not 
daring  to  pretend  or  to  feel  insulted.  "  I  am  sur- 

356 


TRAFFORD   AS   DOVE   OF   PEACE 

prised,  Mr.  Armstrong,  that  you  should  use  it  in  your 
own  house." 

"  I  didn't  ask  you  here.  You  thrust  yourself  in," 
Armstrong  reminded  him,  but  his  manner  was  less 
savage. 

"  True,  I  did  come  of  my  own  accord.  And  I  still 
venture  to  hope  that  you  will  see  the  advantages  of 
a  peaceful  solution." 

"  What  do  you  propose  ? — in  as  few  words  as  pos 
sible,"  said  Armstrong,  still  believing  Trafford  was 
trying  to  trifle  with  him,  for  some  hidden  purpose. 

"  To  call  off  our  attack,"  Trafford  answered, 
"  provided  you  will  agree  to  call  off  yours.  To  give 
you  a  liberal  representation  in  our  board  of  di 
rectors,  including  a  member  of  the  executive  com 
mittee." 

Armstrong  was  astounded.  He  could  not  believe 
that  Trafford's  humble,  eager  manner  was  simulated. 
Yet,  these  terms,  this  humiliating  surrender  of  assured 
victory — it  was  incredible.  "  You  will  have  to  explain 
just  how  you  happened  to  come  here,"  said  he,  "  or 
I  shall  be  unable  to  believe  you." 

The  pink  spots  which  had  faded  from  Trafford's 
cheeks  reappeared.  "  It  was  my  wife,"  he  replied. 
"  She  heard  there  was  to  be  a  scandal.  She  has  a  hor 
ror  of  notoriety — you  know  how  refined  and  sensitive 
she  is.  She  would  not  let  me  rest  until  I  had  prom 
ised  to  do  what  I  could  to  bring  about  peace." 

Armstrong  was  secretly  scorning  his  own  stu 
pidity.  He  had  spent  days,  weeks  on  just  this  problem 
of  breaking  up  the  combination  against  him,  of  sepa 
rating  Trafford  or  Langdon  from  Atwater ;  and  the 
simple,  easy,  obvious  way  to  do  it  had  never  occurred 
to  him,  who  dealt  only  with  the  men  and  disregarded 

357 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

the  women  as  negligible  factors  in  affairs.  To  Traf- 
f  ord  he  said,  "  You've  not  seen  Atwater  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  shall  go  to  him  as  soon  as  I  have  some 
assurance  from  you." 

Atwater — there  was  the  rub.  Armstrong  felt  that 
the  time  to  hope  had  not  yet  come.  Still  he  would  not 
discourage  Trafford.  He  simply  said,  "  I  can't  give 
any  assurance  until  I  consult  Morris." 

"  But,  as  I  understand  it — at  least,  his  original  mo 
tive  was  simply  a  political  ambition.  We  can  easily 
gratify  that." 

"  He  wants  fireworks — something  that'll  make  the 
popular  heart  warm  up  to  him.  He  has  a  long  head. 
He  wants  some  basis,  at  least,  in  popularity,  so  that 
he  won't  be  quite  at  the  mercy  of  you  gentlemen, 
should  you  turn  against  him." 

"  I  see — I  see,"  said  Trafford.  "  He  was  counting 
on  the  reputation  he  would  make  as  an  inquisitor.  Yes, 
that  would  give  him  quite  a  push.  But — there  ought 
to  be  plenty  of  other  matters  he  might  safely  and 
even,  perhaps,  beneficially,  inquire  into.  For  instance, 
there  is  the  Bee  Hive  Mutual — a  really  infamous  swin 
dle.  I've  had  dealings  with  many  unattractive  charac 
ters  in  the  course  of  my  long  business  career,  Mr. 
Armstrong,  but  with  none  so  repellent  in  every  way 
as  Dillworthy.  He  has  made  that  huge  institution  a 
private  graft  for  himself  and  his  family.  He  is  shock 
ing,  even  in  this  day  of  loose  conceptions  of  honesty 
and  responsibility." 

"  Have  you  any  facts  ?  " 

"  Some,  and  they  are  at  Mr.  Morris's  disposal. 
But  all  he  needs  to  do  is  to  send  for  the  books  of  the 
Bee  Hive.  I  am  credibly  informed — you  can  rely  on 
it — that  the  Dillworthys  have  got  so  bold  that  they  do 

358 


TRAFFORD   AS   DOVE   OF  PEACE 

not  even  look  to  the  books.  The  grafting  in  that 
company  is  quite  as  extensive  and  as  open  as  in  our 
large  industrial  and  railway  corporations — and,  you 
know,  they  haven't  profited  by  the  lesson  we  in  the 
insurance  companies  had  in  the  great  investigation. " 

"  Your  proposal  will  content  Morris,  I  think," 
Armstrong  now  said.  "  As  the  Dillworthys  aren't  en 
tangled  with  any  of  the  other  large  interests,  show 
ing  them  up  will  not  cause  a  spreading  agitation." 
He  laughed.  "  There' 's  a  sermon  against  selfishness ! 
If  old  Dillworthy  hadn't  been  so  greedy,  so  determined 
to  keep  it  all  in  the  family,  he  wouldn't  be  in  this 
position." 

"  There  will  be  general  satisfaction  over  his  ex 
posure,"  replied  Trafford.  "  And  it  will  greatly  bene 
fit,  tone  up,  the  whole  business  world." 

"  Really,  it's  our  Christian  duty  to  concentrate  on 
the  Busy  Bee,  isn't  it?"  said  Armstrong  sardonically. 
"  Well—  Can  you  see  Atwater  to-night?  " 

"  I'm  going  direct  to  his  house.  But  where  shall  I 
find  you?  You  said  you  had  an  engagement." 

Armstrong  winced  as  if  a  wound  had  been  roughly 
set  to  aching.  "  I'll  be  here,"  he  said  gruffly. 

"  We  might  dine  together,  perhaps  ?  Atwater  may 
be  able  to  come,  too." 

"  No — can't  do  it,"  was  Armstrong's  reply.  "  But 
I'll  be  here  from  half  past  eight  on." 

Trafford,  so  much  encouraged  that  he  was  almost 
serene  again,  sped  away  to  Atwater's  palace  in  Madison 
Avenue.  The  palace  was  a  concession  to  Mrs.  Atwater 
and  the  daughters.  They  loved  display  and  had  the 
tastes  that  always  accompany  that  passion ;  they, 
therefore,  lived  in  the  unimaginative  and  uncomfort 
able  splendor  of  the  upper  class  heaven  that  is  pro- 

359 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

vided  by  the  makers  of  houses  and  furniture,  whose 
one  thought,  naturally,  is  to  pile  on  the  cost  and  thus 
multiply  the  profits. 

But  Atwater  had  part  of  the  house  set  aside  for 
and  dedicated  to  his  own  personal  satisfaction.  With 
the  same  sense  of  surprise  that  one  has  at  the  abrupt 
transition  of  a  dream  from  one  phantasy  to  another 
resembling  it  in  no  way  except  as  there  is  a  resemblance 
in  flat  contradictions,  one  passed  out  of  the  great, 
garish,  price-encrusted  entrance  hall,  through  a  door 
to  the  left  into  a  series  of  really  beautiful  rooms — 
spacious,  simple,  solidly  furnished;  with  quiet  har 
monies  of  color,  with  no  suggestions  of  mere  orna 
mentation  anywhere.  The  Siersdorfs  had  built  and 
furnished  the  whole  house,  and  its  double  triumph  was 
their  first  success.  With  the  palace  part  they  had 
pleased  the  Atwater  women  and  the  crowd  of  rich 
eager  to  display ;  with  the  part  sacred  to  Atwater,  they 
had  delighted  him  and  such  people  as  formed  their 
ideas  of  beauty  upon  beauty  itself  and  not  upon  fash 
ion  or  tradition  or  outlay.  Trafford  was  shown  into 
a  music  room  where  Atwater  was  playing  on  the  piano, 
as  he  did  almost  every  evening  for  an  hour  before 
dinner.  It  was  a  vast  room,  walls  and  ceilings  paneled 
in  rosewood;  there  were  no  hangings,  except  at  the 
windows  valances  of  velvet  of  a  rosewood  tint,  relieved 
by  a  broad,  dull  gold  stripe;  a  few  simple  articles  of 
furniture ;  Boris  Raphael's  famous  "  Music "  on  the 
wall  opposite  the  piano,  and  no  other  picture;  a  huge 
vase  of  red  and  gold  chrysanthemums  at  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room  to  balance  the  painting;  Atwater  at 
the  piano,  in  a  dark  red,  velvet  house  suit,  over  it  a 
silk  robe  of  a  somewhat  lighter  shade  of  red,  as  the 
room  was  not  heated. 

360 


TRAFFORD  AS  DOVE   OF  PEACE 

66  Business  ?  "  he  said,  pausing  in  his  playing,  with 
a  careless,  unfriendly  glance  at  Trafford. 

"  I'll  only  trouble  you  a  moment,"  apologized  the 
intruder.  His  prim,  strait-laced  appearance  gave 
those  surroundings,  made  sensuous  by  Boris's  intox- 
icatingly  sensuous  picture,  an  air  of  impropriety,  of 
immorality — like  a  woman  in  Quaker  dress  among  the 
bare  shoulders,  backs,  and  bosoms  of  a  ballroom. 

"  Business  !  "  exclaimed  Atwater,  rising.  "  Not  in 
this  room,  if  you  please." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  smaller  room  with  a  billiard 
table  in  the  center  and  great  leather  seats  and  benches 
round  the  walls.  "Do  you  play,  Trafford?  Music,  I 
mean." 

"  I  regret  to  say,  I  do  not,"  replied  Trafford. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  get  a  mechanical  piano. 
Music  in  the  evening  is  like  a  bath  after  a  day  in  the 
trenches.  Try  it.  It'll  soothe  you,  put  you  into  a 
better  condition  for  the  next  day's  bout.  What  can  I 
do  for  you  ?  " 

"  I've  come  about  the  O.  A.  D.  matter.  Atwater, 
don't  you  think  we  might  lose  more  than  we  stand  to 
gain?" 

Atwater  concealed  his  satisfaction.  Since  his  talk 
with  Armstrong,  he  had  been  remeasuring  with  more 
care  that  young  man's  character,  and  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  was  entering  upon  a  much  stiffer 
campaign  than  he  had  anticipated.  Atwater 's  dealings 
were,  and  for  years  had  been,  with  men  of  large  for 
tune — industrial  "  kings,"  great  bankers,  huge  in 
vestors.  Such  men  are  as  timid  as  a  hen  with  a  brood. 
They  will  fight  fiercely — if  they  must — for  their  brood 
of  millions.  But  they  would  rather  run  than  fight,  and 
much  rather  go  clucking  and  strutting  along  peace- 
24  361 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

fully  with  their  brood  securely  about  them.  To  man 
age  such  men,  after  one  has  shown  he  knows  where  the 
worms  are  and  how  they  may  be  got,  all  that  is  neces 
sary  is  inflexible,  tyrannical  firmness.  Their  minds, 
their  hearts,  their  all,  is  centered  in  the  brood ;  per 
sonal  emotions,  they  have  none — that  is,  none  that  need 
be  taken  into  account.  Atwater  ruled,  autocratic,  un 
disputed.  Who  would  dare  quarrel  with  such  a  liberal 
provider  of  the  best  worms? 

But  Armstrong's  personality  presented  another 
proposition.  Here  was  a  man  with  no  fortune,  not 
even  enough  to  have  roused  into  a  fierce  passion  the 
universal  craving  for  wealth.  He  had  a  will,  a  brain, 
courage — and  nothing  to  lose.  And  he,  still  compara 
tively  poor,  had  succeeded  in  lifting  himself  to  a  posi 
tion  of  not  merely  nominal  but  actual  power.  The 
misgivings  of  Atwater  had  been  growing  steadily. 
The  price  of  pulling  down  this  man  might  too  easily 
be  far,  far  beyond  its  profits.  "  We  shall  have  to  come 
together  for  a  finish  fight  sooner  or  later — if  I  live," 
reasoned  Atwater.  "  But  this  is  not  the  best  time  I 
could  have  chosen.  He  isn't  deeply  enough  involved. 
He  isn't  helpless  enough.  I'm  breaking  my  rule  never 
to  fight  until  I'm  ready  and  the  other  fellow  isn't." 

Instead  of  answering  Trafford's  pointed  and  anx 
ious  question,  Atwater  was  humming  softly.  "  I  can't 
get  that  movement  out  of  my  head,"  he  broke  off  to 
explain.  "  I'm  very  fond  of  Grieg — aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  know  about  music  only  in  the  most  general  way. 
My  wife " 

"  You  let  your  women  attend  to  the  family  cul 
ture,  eh?"  interrupted  Atwater.  "You  originally 
suggested  this  war  on  Fosdick  and  Armstrong.  By 
the  way,  you  heard  the  news  this  afternoon?  Arm- 


TRAFFORD  'AS  DOVE   OF  PEACE 

strong  has  thrown  out  the  whole  executive  staff  of  the 
O.  A.  D. — at  one  swoop — and  has  put  in  his  own 
crowd." 

Trafford  leaped  in  the  great  leather  chair  in  which 
his  small  body  was  all  but  swallowed  up.  "  Impos 
sible  ! "  he  cried.  "  Why,  such  a  thing  would  be 
illegal." 

"  Undoubtedly.  But — how  many  years  would  it 
be  before  a  court  can  pass  on  it — pass  on  it  finally? 
Meanwhile,  Armstrong  is  in  possession." 

"  That  completely  alters  the  situation,"  said  Traf 
ford,  in  dismay.  "  Atwater,  it  would  be  folly — mad 
ness  ! — for  us  to  go  on,  if  we  could  make  a  treaty  with 
Armstrong." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Atwater,  with  per 
fect  assurance  now  that  he  saw  that  Trafford  would 
not  call  his  bluff  by  acquiescing.  "  Trafford,  I'm  sur 
prised  ;  you're  losing  your  nerve." 

"  Using  sound  business  judgment  is  not  coward 
ice,"  retorted  Trafford.  "  I  owe  it  to  my  family,  to 
the  stability  of  business,  not  to  encourage  a  senseless, 
a  calamitous  war." 

Atwater  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  As  you  please. 
I  feel  that,  in  this  affair,  your  wishes  are  para 
mount.  But,  at  the  same  time,  Trafford,  I  tell  you 
frankly,  I  don't  like  to  be  trifled  with.  Nor  does 
Langdon." 

"  Perhaps  Morris  and  Armstrong  might  be  induced 
to  turn  their  attention  elsewhere — say,  to  the  Busy 
Bee.  Would  you  not  feel  compensated  by  getting  con 
trol  there?" 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,"  mused  Atwater  aloud.  "  Not 
by  any  means  a  bad  idea."  He  reflected  in  silence. 
"  If  you  could  arrange  that,  it  would  be  even  better 

363 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

than  the  plan  you  ask  me  to  abandon  at  the  eleventh 
hour." 

"  Then  you  agree?  "  said  Trafford,  quivering  with 
eagerness. 

"  If  we  can  get  the  Busy  Bee.  I've  had  an  eye 
on  that  chap  Dillworthy,  for  some  time." 

"  I  am  much  relieved,"  said  Traff ord,  rising.  His 
face  was  beaming;  there  was  once  more  harmony  be 
tween  his  expression  and  the  aggressive,  unbending  cut 
of  his  hair  and  whiskers. 

Atwater  looked  at  him  sharply.  "  You've  seen 
Armstrong,"  he  jerked  out. 

Trafford  hesitated.  "  I  thought,"  he  said  apolo 
getically,  "  it  would  be  best  to  have  a  general  talk  with 
Armstrong  first — just  to  sound  him." 

"  I  understand."  Atwater  laughed  sarcastically. 
"  And  may  I  ask,  if  it  wasn't  the  news  of  the  upset 
in  the  O.  A.  D.,  what  was  it  that  set  you  to  running 
about  so  excitedly  ?  " 

Trafford  gave  a  nervous  cough.  "  My  wife — you 
know  how  refined  and  sensitive  she  is —  She  got  wind 
of  the  impending  scandal,  and,  being  very  tender 
hearted  and  also  having  a  horror  of  notoriety,  she 
urged  me  to  try  to  find  a  peaceful  way  out." 

"  Petticoats ! "  said  Atwater,  with  derision,  but 
tolerant. 

"  Not  that  I  would  have — "  Trafford  began  to  pro 
test. 

"  No  apology  necessary.  I  comprehend.  I've  got 
them  in  the  house." 

Trafford  laughed,  relieved.  "  The  ladies  are  diffi 
cult  at  times,"  said  he,  "  but,  how  would  we  do  with 
out  them?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Atwater  dryly. 
364 


TE AFFORD  AS  DOVE  OF  PEACE 

"  I  never  had  the  good  fortune  of  the  opportunity  to 
try  it.  What  did  Armstrong  say,  when  you  sounded 
him?  I  believe  you  called  it  '  sounding,'  though  I  sus 
pect —  No  matter.  What  did  he  say?  " 

"  I  think  you  may  safely  assume  the  matter  is 
settled.  In  fact,  Armstrong  has  shown  a  willingness 
to  make  peace." 

"  Rather !  "  said  Atwater,  edging  his  visitor  toward 
the  door.  "  Good  night,"  he  added  in  the  same  breath ; 
and  he  was  rid  of  Trafford.  He  went  slowly  back  to 
the  piano,  and  resumed  the  interrupted  symphony 
softly,  saying  every  now  and  then,  in  a  half  sympa 
thetic,  half  cynical  undertone,  "  Poor  Dillworthy ! 
Poor  devil !  " 


365 


XXVII 

BREAKFAST    AL    FRESCO 

ARMSTRONG  sent  Neva  a  prompt  telegram  of  sym 
pathy  and  inquiry.  He  got  a  telegraphed  reply — her 
thanks  and  the  statement  that  her  father  was  desper 
ately  ill,  but  apparently  not  in  immediate  danger.  He 
wrote  her  about  the  highly  satisfactory  turn  in  his 
affairs ;  to  help  him  to  ease,  he  tried  to  dismiss  herself 
and  himself,  but  at  every  sentence  he  had  to  stem  again 
the  feeling  that  this  letter  would  be  read  where  he  was 
remembered  as  the  sort  of  person  it  made  him  hot 
with  shame  to  think  he  had  ever  been.  He  waited  two 
weeks ;  no  answer.  Again  he  wrote — a  lover's  appeal 
for  news  of  her.  Ten  days,  and  she  answered,  ignor 
ing  the  personal  side  of  his  letter,  simply  telling  how  ill 
her  father  was,  what  a  long  struggle  at  best  it  would 
be  to  save  him.  Armstrong  saw  that  nursing  and 
anxiety  were  absorbing  all  her  time  and  thought  and 
strength.  He  wrote  a  humble  apology  for  having  an 
noyed  her,  asked  her  to  write  him  whenever  she  could, 
if  it  was  only  a  line  or  so. 

Two  more  increasingly  restless  weeks,  and  he  tele 
graphed  that  he  was  coming.  She  telegraphed  an 
absolute  veto,  and  in  the  first  mail  came  a  letter  that 
was  the  more  crushing  because  it  was  calm  and  free 
from  bitterness.  "  In  this  quiet  town,"  wrote  she, 
"  where  so  little  happens,  you  know  how  they  remem- 

366 


BREAKFAST   AL   FRESCO 

her  and  brood  and  become  bitter.  What  is  past  and 
forgotten  for  us  is  still  very  vivid  to  him  and  mag 
nified  out  of  all  proportion.  Please  do  not  write  again, 
until  you  hear  from  me." 

Thus,  he  learned  that  his  worst  fears  were  justified. 
If  she  had  shown  that,  in  the  home  atmosphere  again, 
she  was  seeing  him  as  formerly,  he  could  have  pro 
tested,  argued,  appealed.  But  how  strive  against  her 
duty  to  her  sick,  her  dying  father  whose  generous 
friendship  he  had  ruthlessly  betrayed  and  whose  life 
he  had  embittered?  He  debated  going  to  Battle  Field 
and  seeing  Mr.  Carlin  and  asking  forgiveness.  But 
such  an  agitating  interview  would  probably  hasten 
death,  even  if  he  could  get  admittance ;  besides,  he  re 
membered  that  Frederic  Carlin,  slow  to  condemn,  never 
forgave  once  he  had  condemned.  "  He  feels  toward 
me  as  I'd  feel  in  the  same  circumstances.  I  have  got 
only  what  I  deserve."  No  judgments  are  so  terrible 
as  those  that  are  just. 

The  state  of  Armstrong's  mind  so  preyed  upon 
him  that  it  affected  even  his  giant  strength  and  health, 
and  his  friends  urged  him  to  take  a  vacation.  He 
worked  only  the  harder,  because  in  work  alone  could 
he  get  any  relief  whatever  from  the  torments  of  his 
remorse  and  his  baffled  love.  He  became  morose,  given 
to  bursts  of  unreasonable  anger.  "  Success  is  turning 
his  head,"  was  the  general  opinion.  "  He's  getting  to 
be  a  tyrant,  like  the  others."  In  some  moods,  he  saw 
the  lessons  of  gentleness  and  forbearance  in  the  fate 
his  selfish  arrogance  had  brought  upon  him ;  but  it  is 
not  in  the  nature  of  men  of  strong  individuality  and 
unbroken  will  to  practice  such  lessons.  The  keener  his 
sufferings,  the  bitterer,  the  harder  he  became.  And 
soon  he  began  to  feel  that  there  was  nearly  if  not 

367 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

quite  a  quittance  of  the  balance  between  him  and  the 
man  he  had  wronged.  He  convinced  himself  that,  if 
Neva's  father  were  dead,  he  could  speedily  win  her. 
"  Meanwhile,"  he  reflected,  "  I  must  take  my  punish 
ment  " ;  and  with  the  stolid,  unwhimpering  endurance 
of  those  whose  ancestors  have  through  countless  gen 
erations  been  schooled  in  the  fields,  the  forests,  and  the 
camps,  he  waited  for  the  news  that  would  mean  the  end 
of  his  expiation. 

Raphael,  taking  his  walk  in  Fifth  Avenue  late  one 
afternoon  instead  of  in  Central  Park,  saw  him  in  a 
closed  motor  in  the  halted  mass  of  vehicles  at  the 
Forty-second  Street  crossing.  Boris  happened  to  be 
in  his  happiest  mood.  Always  the  philosopher,  he  was 
too  catholic  in  his  interests  and  tastes  to  permit  dis 
appointment  in  any  one  direction  or  even  in  many 
directions  to  close  the  other  avenues  to  the  joy  of  life. 
There  were  times  when  he  could  not  quite  banish 
the  shadows  which  the  thought  of  death  cast  over  him 
— death,  so  exasperating  to  men  of  pride  and  imagina 
tion  because,  of  all  their  adversaries,  it  alone  cannot 
be  challenged  or  compromised.  But  on  that  day, 
Boris  had  only  the  sense  of  life,  life  at  its  best,  with 
the  sun  bright  and  not  too  warm,  with  the  new  garb 
of  nature  and  of  womankind  radiantly  fresh,  and  the 
whole  world  laughing  because  the  winter  had  been  van 
quished  once  more.  As  his  all-observing  eyes  noted 
Armstrong's  profile,  his  face  darkened.  There  was  for 
him,  in  that  profile,  rugged,  stern,  inflexible,  a  chal 
lenge  of  the  basis  of  his  happiness. 

In  all  his  willful  life  Boris  had  never  wanted  any 
thing  so  intensely,  so  exclusively  as  he  wanted  Neva. 
Every  man  who  falls  in  love  with  a  woman  feels  that 
he  is  her  discoverer,  that  he  has  a  property  right  se- 

368 


BREAKFAST  AL   FRESCO 

curely  based  upon  discovery.  Raphael's  sense  of  his 
right  to  Neva  was  far  stronger;  it  was  the  creator's 
sense.  Had  he  not  said,  "  Let  there  be  beauty  and 
light  and  capacity  to  give  and  receive  love  "  ?  And 
had  not  these  wonders  sprung  into  existence  before  his 
magic?  True,  the  beauty  and  the  light  and  the  power 
to  give  and  to  receive  were  different  both  in  kind  and 
in  degree  from  what  he  had  commanded.  But  that  did 
not  alter  his  right.  And  this  Armstrong,  this  coarse 
savage  who  would  take  away  his  Galatea  to  serve  in  a 
vulgar,  sooty  tent  of  barbaric  commerce —  The  very 
sight  of  Armstrong  set  all  his  senses  on  edge,  as  if  each 
were  being  assailed  by  its  own  particular  abhorrence. 

That  day  the  stern,  inflexible  profile  somehow 
struck  into  him  the  same  chill  that  always  came  at  the 
thought  of  death  with  its  undebatable  "  must."  Yet 
there  was  in  his  pocket,  at  the  very  moment,  warm 
ing  his  heart  like  a  flagon  of  old  port,  a  long  letter 
from  Neva,  a  confidential  letter,  full  of  friendly,  in 
timate  things  about  herself,  her  anxieties,  her  hopes, 
and  fears ;  and  she  asked  him  to  stop  off  on  his  way 
to  or  from  his  lectures  before  the  Chicago  art  stu 
dents.  "  Narcisse  is  here,"  she  wrote.  "  She  will  be 
leaving  about  that  time,  she  says,  and  if  you  stop  on 
your  way,  she  and  you  can  go  back  together.  How 
I  wish  I  could  go,  too !  Not  until  I  settled  down  here 
did  I  appreciate  what  you — and  New  York — had  done 
for  me.  Yet  I  had  thought  I  did.  Do  stop  off  here. 
It  will  be  so  good  to  see  you,  Boris." 

As  he  looked  at  Armstrong's  profile,  he  laid  his 
hand  on  his  coat  over  the  letter  and  remembered  that 
sentence —  "  It  will  be  so  good  to  see  you."  But  the 
shadow  would  not  depart.  That  profile  persisted;  he 
could  not  banish  it. 

369 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

When  he  descended  from  the  train  at  the  Battle 
Field  station  and  saw  Neva,  with  Narcisse  beside  her 
in  a  touring  car,  he  saw  that  ominous  profile,  plain 
as  if  Armstrong  were  there,  too.  This,  though  Neva's 
welcome  was  radiantly  bright.  "  What's  the  matter, 
Boris  ?  "  cried  Narcisse,  climbing  to  the  seat  beside  the 
chauffeur  before  Neva  could  prevent.  "  Get  in  be 
side  your  hostess  and  cheer  up.  You  ought  to  look 
like  a  clear  sunrise.  The  lecture  was  a  triumph.  I 
read  two  whole  columns  of  it  aloud  to  Neva  and  her 
father  this  morning.  No  cant.  No  hypocrisy.  They 
agreed  with  me  that  your  art  ideas  are  like  an  island 
in  the  boundless  ocean  of  flap-doodle." 

"  My  father  used  to  sell  bananas  from  a  cart  in 
Chicago,"  said  Boris,  "  and  we  lived  in  the  cellar  where 
he  ripened  them." 

Neva  glanced  at  him  with  quick  sympathetic  in 
terest.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  happened  to 
speak  of  his  origin.  "  I  always  thought  you  were 
born  abroad,"  said  she. 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  he.  "  I  really  don't  know 
at  exactly  what  point  I  broke  into  the  world.  Those 
things  matter  so  little.  Countries,  governments,  races 
— they  mean  nothing  to  me.  I  meet  my  fellow  beings 
as  individuals." 

There  he  caught  Neva  studying  him  with  an  ex 
pression  so  curious  that  he  paused.  She  forestalled 
his  question  by  plunging  into  an  animated  talk  about 
his  lecture.  He  was  well  content  to  listen,  enjoying 
now  the  surroundings  and  now  the  beauty  of  the 
woman  beside  him.  Both  were  wonderfully  soothing 
to  him,  filled  him  with  innocent,  virtuous  thoughts, 
made  him  envy,  and  half  delude  himself  into  fancy 
ing  he  wished  for  himself,  the  joys  of  somnolescent, 

370 


BREAKFAST   AL   FRESCO 

corpulent,  middle-class  life — the  life  obviously  led  by 
the  people  dwelling  in  these  flower-embedded  houses 
on  either  side  of  these  shady  streets.  He  sighed; 
Neva  laughed.  And  he  saw  that  she  was  laughing  at 
him. 

"Well,  why  not?"  he  demanded,  knowing  she  un 
derstood  his  sigh.  But  before  she  could  answer  he 
was  laughing  at  himself.  "  Still,  I  like  it,  for  a 
change,"  said  he.  "  And — "  he  was  speaking  now  in 
an  undertone — "  with  you  I  could  be  happy  in  such 
a  place — always.  Just  with  you;  not  if  we  let  these 
stupid  burghers  in  to  fret  me." 

She  laughed  outright.  "  I  understand  you  better 
than  you  understand  yourself,"  said  she.  "  Change 
and  contrast  are  as  necessary  to  you  as  air.  If  you 
had  to  live  here,  you  would  commit  suicide  or  become 
commonplace.  .  .  .  And  so  should  I." 

"  Not  with  a  husband  you  loved  and  children  you 
adored  and  a  home  you  had  created  yourself.  As  the 
world  expands,  it  contracts ;  as  it  contracts,  it  ex 
pands.  From  end  to  end  the  universe  is  not  so  vast 
as  such  a  love." 

Neva,  coloring  deeply  and  profoundly  moved, 
leaned  forward.  "  I'm  sorry  you're  missing  this," 
said  she,  lightly  to  Narcisse.  "  Boris  is  sentimental 
izing  about  the  vine-clad  cottage  with  children  clam 
bering." 

"  It's  about  time  you  quit  and  came  in  to  set 
tle  down,"  called  Narcisse.  "  A  few  years  more  and 
you'll  cease  to  be  romantic.  An  old  beau  is  ridicu 
lous." 

Boris  gave  Neva  a  triumphant  look.  "  Narcisse 
votes  yes,"  said  he. 

But  they  were  arriving  at  the  house.  As  the  motor 
371 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

ran  up  the  drive  under  the  elms  toward  the  gorgeous 
masses  of  forsythia  about  the  entrance  steps,  Boris's 
eyes  were  so  busy  that  he  scarcely  heard,  while  Neva 
explained  that  her  father  was  too  weak  to  withstand 
the  excitement  of  visitors — "  especially  anyone  distin 
guished.  We're  not  telling  him  you're  here.  He  would 
feel  it  his  duty  to  exert  himself." 

"  Distinguished !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  In  presence  of 
these  elms  and  this  house  built  for  all  time,  and  these 
eternal  colors,  how  could  mere  mortal  be  distin 
guished  ?  " 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning  that  he  had  a 
chance  to  talk  with  her  alone.  He  rose  early  and  went 
out  before  breakfast.  He  strolled  through  the  woods 
back  of  the  house  until  he  came  to  a  pavilion  with  a 
creek  rushing  steeply  down  past  it  toward  Otter  Lake. 
In  the  pavilion  he  found  Neva  with  a  great  heap  of 
roses  in  her  lap,  another  on  the  table,  another  on  the 
bench.  On  her  bright  hair  was  a  huge  garden  hat,  its 
broad  streamers  of  pink  ribbon  flowing  upon  her 
shoulders. 

She  dropped  her  shears  and  watched  him  with  the 
expression  in  her  eyes  that  he  had  surprised  there,  as 
they  were  coming  from  the  station  in  the  motor. 
"  May  I  ask,"  said  he,  "  what  is  the  meaning  of  that 
look?" 

"  Did  you  sleep  well?  "  parried  she. 

"  Without  a  dream." 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  she — "  Let  us  have  break 
fast  here — you  and  I.  ...  Washington !  "  she  called. 

There  rose  from  a  copse  below,  near  the  brim  of 
the  creek,  a  small  colored  boy,  barefooted,  bareheaded, 
with  no  garments  but  a  blue  shirt  and  a  pair  of  blue 
cotton  jean  trousers.  She  sent  him  off  to  the  house 

372 


BREAKFAST   AL    FRESCO 

to  tell  them  to  bring  breakfast.  And  soon  a  maid 
appeared  with  a  tray  whose  chief  burden  was  a  heat 
ing  apparatus  for  coffee  and  milk. 

"  I've  heard  you  say  you  detested  cold  coffee,"  said 
Neva.  "  Your  frown  when  I  suggested  breakfast  out 
here  was  premature." 

She  scattered  and  heaped  the  roses  into  an  odor 
ous,  dew-sprinkled  mat  of  green  and  pink  and  white, 
in  the  center  of  the  rustic  table.  Then  she  served  the 
coffee.  It  was  real  coffee,  and  the  milk  was  what  is 
called  cream  in  many  parts  of  the  world.  "  Brother 
Tom  has  a  model  farm,"  she  explained.  "  These  eggs 
were  laid  this  morning." 

"  So  they  were,"  exclaimed  Boris,  as  he  broke  one. 
His  eyes  were  sparkling;  all  that  was  best  in  his  looks 
and  in  his  nature  was  irradiating  from  him.  Her 
sweet,  lovely  face,  her  delicate  fresh  costume,  the  sight 
and  odor  of  the  roses,  of  the  forest  all  round  them, 
the  melody  of  the  descending  waters,  and  the  superb 
coffee,  crisp  rolls,  and  freshest  of  fresh  eggs —  "  You 
criticise  me  for  my  appreciation  of  the  sensuous  side 
of  life,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he.  "  But,  tell  me,  is 
there  anywhere  anything  more  delicious,  more  inspir 
ing  than  this  breakfast  ?  " 

"  I  never  criticised  you  for  loving  the  joys  of  the 
senses,"  cried  she.  "  Never !  We  are  too  much  alike 
there." 

"  What  happiness  we  could  have !  "  exclaimed  he. 
"  For  do  we  not  know  how  to  make  life  smooth  and 
comfortable  and  beautiful,  you  and  I  ?  " 

"Only  too  well,"  confessed  she.  "I  often  think 
of  it.  But " 

He  waited  for  her  to  continue.  When  he  saw  that 
she  would  not,  but  was  lost  in  a  reverie,  he  said,  "  You 

373 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

promised  you  would  think   about   our   going  abroad. 
Have  you  thought?  " 

She  nodded. 

"You  will  go?" 

She  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  want  to,  but— I  can't." 

"Why?" 

He  had  paused  in  buttering  a  bit  of  roll.  Anyone 
coming  up  just  then  would  have  thought  he  was  look 
ing  at  her,  awaiting  an  answer  to  an  inquiry  after  salt 
or  something  like  that.  She  said :  "  Because  I  do  not 
love  you." 

He  waved  his  knife  in  airy  dismissal.  "  A  trifle ! 
And  so  easily  overcome." 

"  Because  I  cannot  love  you,  my  dear."  She  looked 
at  him  affectionately. 

He  balanced  the  bit  of  bread  before  his  lips.  "  Not 
that  brotherly  look,  please,"  said  he.  "  It— it  hurts !  " 
He  put  the  bread  in  his  mouth. 

She  leaned  forward  and  laid  her  hand  on  his.  "  We 
are  too  much  alike.  You  are  too  subtle,  too  nervous, 
too  appreciative,  too  changeable.  You  would  soon 
cease  to  fancy  you  loved  me.  I — it  so  happens — have 
never  begun  to  fancy  I  loved  you.  That  is  fortunate 
for  us  both." 

"  Armstrong !  "  he  exclaimed.  And  suddenly,  de 
spite  his  ruddy  coloring,  he  suggested  a  dark  Sicilian 
hate  peering  from  an  ambush,  stiletto  in  impatient 
hand. 

"  Don't  show  me  that  side  of  you,  Boris,"  she  en 
treated.  "  Whether  it  is  Armstrong  or  not,  did  I  not 
say  the  fact  that  I  don't  fancy  I  love  you  is  fortunate 
for  us  both?" 

374 


BREAKFAST   AL    FRESCO 

"  You  love  Armstrong,"  he  insisted  sullenly. 

"  How  can  you  know  that,  when  I  don't  know  it 
myself?"  replied  she.  "As  I  told  you  once  before, 
the  only  matter  that  concerns  you  is  that  I  do  not 
love  you."  She  spoke  sharply.  Knowing  him  so  well, 
she  had  small  patience  with  his  childish,  barbaric 
moods;  she  could  not  bear  pettiness  in  a  man  really 
and  almost  entirely  great.  "Will  you  be  yourself?" 
she  demanded,  earnest  beneath  her  smiling  manner. 
"  How  can  I  talk  to  you  seriously  if  you  act  like  a 
spoiled,  bad  boy?  If  you'll  only  think  about  the  mat 
ter,  as  I've  been  compelled  to  think  about  it,  you'll  see 
that  you  don't  really  love  me — that  I'm  not  the  woman 
for  you  at  all.  We'd  aggravate  each  other's  worst. 
What  you  need  is  a  woman  like  Narcisse." 

"  You  are  most  kind,"  he  said  sarcastically. 

"  As  she  told  you  yesterday,  you've  got  to  settle 
down  within  a  few  years  or  become  absurd.  And 
she " 

"  It  is  because  of  the  women  I  have  known  that  you 
will  not  give  me  yourself,"  he  said.  "  Oh,  Neva,  I 
have  never  loved  but  you."  And  in  his  agitation  he 
clasped  her  hands  and,  dropping  into  French,  cried 
with  flaming  eyes,  "  I  adore  you.  You  are  my  life, 
the  light  on  my  path — my  star  shining  through  the 
storm.  You  make  me  tremble  with  passion  and  with 
fear.  Neva,  my  love,  my  soul " 

She  snatched  her  hands  away.  She  tried  to  look 
at  him  mockingly,  but  could  not. 

"  Neva,  my  girl,"  he  said  in  English  again.  "  Do 
not  wither  my  heart !  " 

"  Boris,"  she  answered  gently,  "  I've  tried  to  care 
for  you  as  you  wish  me  to  care.  I  sent  for  you  because 
I  thought  I  had  begun  to  succeed.  But  when  I  saw 

375 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

you  again —  I  liked  you,  admired  you,  more  than 
ever,  more  than  anyone.  But  my  dear,  dear  friend,  I 
cannot  give  you  what  you  ask.  It  simply  will  not 
yield." 

He  became  calm  as  abruptly  as  he  had  burst  into 
passion.  Taking  his  heavily  jeweled  and  engraved 
gold  cigarette  case  from  his  pocket,  he  slowly  ex 
tracted  a  cigarette,  lighted  it  with  great  deliberation, 
blew  out  the  match,  blew  out  the  lamp  of  the  portable 
stove.  "  Why  ?  "  he  said  in  a  tone  of  pleasant  banter 
ing  inquiry.  "  Please  tell  me  why  you  do  not  and 
cannot  love  me." 

She  colored  in  confusion. 

"  Do  not  fear  lest  you  will  offend,"  urged  he. 
"  I  ask  impersonally.  Feminine  psychology  is  inter 
esting." 

"  I'd  rather  not  talk  about  it." 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  he  persisted  amiably,  so 
amiably  that  she  had  to  remind  herself  of  the  sort 
of  nature  she  knew  he  had,  to  quell  a  suspicion  of 
treachery  under  his  smoothness.  "  Because  I  am  too 
— feminine?"  he  went  on. 

She  nodded  hesitatingly.  Then,  encouraged  by 
his  cynical,  good-humored  laugh,  "  Though  feminine 
doesn't  quite  express  it.  There  isn't  enough  of  the 
primitive  man  left  in  you  for  a  woman  of  my  tempera 
ment.  You  have  been  superrefined,  Boris.  You  are 
too  understanding,  too  sympathetic  for  a  feminine 
woman  like  me.  There  are  two  persons  to  you — one 
that  feels,  one  that  reasons  —  criticises  —  analyzes  — 
laughs.  I  couldn't  for  a  moment  forget  the  one  that 
laughs — at  yourself,  at  any  who  respond  to  the  you 
that  feels.  I  suppose  you  don't  understand.  I'm  sure 
I  don't." 

376 


You  are  my  life,  the  light  on  my  path.'" 


BREAKFAST   AL    FRESCO 

"  Vaguely,"  said  he,  somewhat  absently.  "  Who'd 
suspect  it  ?  " 

"Suspect  what?" 

"  That  there  was  this — this  coarse  streak  in  you — 
this  craving  for  the  ultramasculine,  the  rude,  rough, 
aggressive  male,  inconsiderate,  brutal,  masterful?  " 

"  A  coarse  streak,"  she  repeated,  half  in  assent, 
half  in  mere  reflection. 

He  surveyed  impersonally  her  delicately  feminine 
charms,  suggesting  fragility  even.  "  And  yet,"  he 
mused  aloud,  "  I  should  have  seen  it.  What  else  could 
be  the  meaning  of  those  sharp,  even  teeth — of  the  long 
slits  through  which  your  green-gray-brown-blue  eyes 
look.  And  your  long,  slim,  sensitive  lines " 

The  impersonal  faded  into  the  personal,  the  Boris 
that  analyzed  into  the  Boris  that  felt.  The  appeal  of 
her  beauty  to  his  senses  swept  over  and  submerged  his 
pose  of  philosopher.  His  eyes  shone  and  swam,  like 
lights  seen  afar  through  a  mist;  the  fingers  that  held 
the  cigarette  trembled.  But,  as  he  realized  long  after 
wards,  he  showed  then  and  there  how  right  she  was  as 
to  his  masculinity.  For,  his  was  the  passive  intensity 
of  the  feminine,  not  the  aggressive  intensity  of  the 
male ;  instead  of  forgetting  her  in  the  fury  of  his  own 
baffled  desire  and  seizing  her,  to  crush  her  until  he 
had  wrung  some  sensation,  no  matter  what,  from  those 
unmoved  nerves  of  hers,  he  restrained  himself,  hid  his 
emotion  as  swiftly  as  he  could,  turned  it  off  with  a 
jest — "And  I've  let  my  coffee  grow  cold!"  He  was 
once  more  Boris  of  the  boyish  vanity  that  feared,  more 
than  ridicule,  the  triumph  of  a  woman  over  him.  He 
would  rather  have  risked  losing  her  than  have  given 
her  the  opportunity  to  see  and  perhaps  enjoy  her 
power. 

25  377 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

Presently  Narcisse  came  into  view.  The  lamp  was 
relighted;  the  three  talked  together;  he  was  not  alone 
with  Neva  again,  made  no  attempt  to  be. 

That  afternoon,  just  before  the  time  for  him  and 
Narcisse  to  depart,  Neva  took  her  in  to  say  good-by 
to  her  father — a  mere  shadow  of  a  wreck  of  a  man, 
whose  remnant  of  vitality  was  ebbing  almost  breath  by 
breath.  As  they  came  from  his  room,  it  suddenly 
struck  Narcisse  how  profoundly  Neva  was  being  af 
fected  by  her  father's  life,  now  that  his  mortal  illness 
was  bringing  it  vividly  before  her.  A  truly  noble 
character  moves  so  tranquilly  and  unobtrusively  that 
it  is  often  unobserved,  perhaps,  rather,  taken  for 
granted,  unless  some  startling  event  compels  attention 
to  it.  Neva  was  appreciating  her  father  at  last;  and 
Narcisse  saw  what  there  was  to  appreciate.  No  human 
being  can  live  in  one  place  for  half  a  century  without 
indelibly  impressing  himself  upon  his  surroundings; 
Narcisse  felt  in  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  rooms  he 
had  frequented  a  personality  that  revealed  itself  alto 
gether  by  example,  not  at  all  by  precept;  a  human 
being  that  loved  nature  and  his  fellow  beings,  lived  in 
justice  and  mercy. 

"  How  much  it  means  to  have  a  father  like  yours !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

Neva  did  not  reply  for  some  time.  When  she  did, 
the  expression  of  her  eyes,  of  her  mouth,  made  Nar 
cisse  realize  that  her  words  had  some  deeper,  some  hid 
den  meaning :  "  If  ever  I  have  children,"  she  said, 
"  they  shall  have  that  same  inheritance  from  their 
father."  And  presently  she  went  on,  "  I  often,  now 
adays,  contrast  my  father  with  the  leading  men 
there  in  New  York.  What  dreadful  faces  they  have! 

378 


BREAKFAST   AL   FRESCO 

What  tyranny  and  meanness  and  trickery !  And,  how 
wretched !  It  is  hard  to  know  whether  most  to  pity 
or  to  despise  them." 

Narcisse  knew  instinctively  that  she  meant  Arm 
strong,  and  perhaps,  to  a  certain  extent,  Boris  also. 
"  We've  no  right  to  condemn  them,"  said  she.  "  They 
are  the  victims  of  circumstances  too  strong  for  them." 

"  You  have  the  right,"  insisted  Neva.  "  You  have 
been  tempted;  yet,  you  are  not  like  them.  You  have 
not  let  New  York  enslave  you,  but  have  made  it  your 
servant." 

"  The  temptations  that  would  have  reached  my 
weaknesses  didn't  happen  to  offer,"  replied  she.  And 
there  she  sighed,  for  she  felt  the  ache  of  her  wound — 
Alois. 

But  it  was  time  to  go.  Neva  took  them  to  the 
station;  at  the  parting  Boris  kissed  her  hand  in  for 
eign  fashion,  after  his  habit,  with  not  a  hint  of 
anything  but  self-control  and  ease  at  heart  and  mind, 
not  even  such  a  hint  as  Neva  alone  would  have  under 
stood.  She  bore  up  bravely  until  they  were  gone; 
then  solitude  and  melancholy  suddenly  enveloped  her 
in  their  black  fog,  and  she  went  back  home  like  a 
traveler  in  a  desert,  alone  and  aimless.  "  He  didn't 
really  care,"  she  thought  bitterly,  indifferent  to  her 
own  display  of  selfishness  in  having  secretly  and  fur 
tively  wished  for  a  love  that  would  only  have  brought 
unhappiness  to  him,  since,  try  however  hard,  she  could 
not  return  it.  "  Does  anyone  *care  about  anyone  but 
himself?  ...  If  I  could  only  have  loved  him  enough  to 
deceive  myself.  He's  so  much  more  worth  while  than — 
than  any  other  man  I  ever  knew  or  ever  shall  know." 


379 


XXVIII 

FORAGING    FOR    SON-IN-LAW 

NARCISSE  had  gone  to  Neva  at  Battle  Field  to  get 
as  well  as  to  give  sympathy  and  companionship;  to 
get  the  strength  to  tread  alone  the  path  in  which  she 
had  always  had  her  brother  to  help  her — and  he  had 
helped  her  most  of  all  by  getting  help  from  her.  She 
had  assumed  that  her  brother  would  marry  some  day; 
she  herself  looked  forward  to  marrying,  as  she  grew 
older  and  appreciated  why  children  are  something  be 
side  a  source  of  annoyance  and  anxiety.  But  she  had 
also  assumed  that  he  would  marry  a  woman  with  whom 
she  would  be  friends,  a  woman  in  real  sympathy  with 
his  career.  Instead,  he  married  Amy,  stunted  in  mind 
and  warped  in  character  and  withered  in  heart  by  the 
environment  of  the  idle  rich.  She  knew  that  the  end 
of  the  old  life  had  come ;  and  it  was  to  get  away  from 
the  melancholy  spectacle  of  her  new  brother  that,  two 
months  after  his  return  from  the  honeymoon,  she  went 
West  for  that  visit  with  Neva. 

"  Amy  has  ruined  him,"  she  said,  when  she  had  been 
at  Battle  Field  long  enough  to  feel  free  to  open  her 
heart  wide.  "  It's  only  a  question  of  time ;  he  will 
give  up  his  career  entirely." 

And,  like  the  beginning  of  the  fulfillment  of  her 
prophecy,  there  soon  came  a  letter  from  him  which  she 
showed  Neva.  With  much  beating  round  the  bush, 

380 


FORAGING   FOR   SON-IN-LAW 

he  hinted  dissolution  of  partnership.  It  gave  Neva  the 
heartache  to  read,  and  she  hardly  dared  look  at  Nar- 
cisse.  "  I'm  afraid  you  were  right  in  your  suspicions," 
she  had  to  admit. 

"  Certainly  I  was  right,"  replied  Narcisse.  "  But 
I'm  not  really  so  cut  up  as  you  think.  Nothing  comes 
unannounced  in  this  world,  thank  heaven.  I've  been 
getting  ready  for  this  ever  since  he  told  me  they  were 
engaged." 

"  How  brave  you  are !  "  exclaimed  Neva.  "  I  know 
what  you  must  feel,  yet  you  can  hide  it." 

"  I'm  hiding  nothing,"  Narcisse  assured  her. 
"  I've  lived  a  long  time — much  longer  than  my  birth 
days  show.  I've  been  making  my  own  living  since  I 
was  thirteen — and  it  wasn't  easy  until  the  last  few 
years.  But  I've  learned  to  take  life  as  I  take  weather. 
There  are  sunny  seasons,  and  stormy  seasons,  and 
middling  seasons.  When  the  sun  shines,  I  don't  en 
joy  it  less,  but  rather  more,  because  I  know  foul 
weather  is  certain  to  come.  And  when  it  does  come, 
I  know  it  won't  last  forever."  There  were  tears  in 
her  eyes,  but  through  them  she  smiled  dauntlessly. 
"  And  the  sun  will  shine  again — warm  and  bright  and 
streaming  happiness." 

Neva's  own  heart  was  suddenly  buoyant.  "  It  will 
— it  surely  will !  "  she  cried. 

"  And,"  proceeded  Narcisse,  "  my  troubles  are 
trifles  compared  with  Alois's.  I  know  him ;  I  know 
he's  unhappy.  If  ever  there  was  a  man  cheated  in  a 
marriage,  that  man  is  my  poor  brother.  And  he  must 
realize  it  by  this  time." 

She  had  guessed  close  to  the  truth.  Alois  and  his 
bride  had  not  been  honeymooning  many  weeks  before 
he  confessed  to  himself  that  he  had  overestimated — or, 

381 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

perhaps,  misestimated — her  intellect.  Not  that  she  was 
stupid  or  ignorant;  no,  merely,  that  she  lacked  the 
originality  he  had  attributed  to  her.  He  had  pictured 
himself  doing  great  work  under  her  inspiration,  his 
own  skill  supplemented  by  her  taste  and  cleverness  in 
suggesting  and  designing.  He  found  that  she  knew 
only  what  he  or  some  book  had  told  her,  that  her 
enthusiasm  for  architecture  was  in  large  part  one 
of  those  amiable  pretenses  wherewith  the  female  aids 
the  passions  of  the  male  to  beguile  him  to  her 
will. 

But  this  discovery  did  not  depress  him.  No  man 
ever  was  depressed  by  finding  out  that  his  wife  was 
his  mental  inferior,  though  many  a  man  has  been 
pitched  headlong  into  permanent  dejection  by  the  dis 
covery  of  the  reverse.  She  was  more  beautiful  than 
he  had  thought,  more  loving  and  more  lovable — and 
those  compensations  more  than  made  good  the  van 
ished  dream  of  companionship.  Soon,  however,  her 
intense  affection  began  to  wear  upon  him.  Not  that 
he  liked  it  less  or  loved  her  less;  but  he  saw  with  the 
beginnings  of  alarm  that  he  was  on  the  way  to  being 
engulfed,  that  he  either  must  devote  himself  entirely  to 
being  Amy's  husband  or  must  expect  to  lose  her.  It 
was  fascinating,  intoxicating,  to  be  thus  encradled  in 
love;  but  it  was  not  exactly  his  notion  of  what  was 
manly. 

He  talked  of  the  work  "  they  "  would  do,  of  the 
fame  "  they  "  would  win ;  she  responded  with  rapidly 
decreasing  enthusiasm,  finally  listened  without  com 
ment.  Once,  when  he  was  expanding  upon  this  subject, 
with  some  projected  public  buildings  at  Washington 
as  the  text,  she  suddenly  threw  herself  into  his  arms, 
and  cried,  "  Oh,  let  Narcisse  take  care  of  those  things. 

382 


FORAGING   FOR    SON-IN-LAW 

We — you  and  I,  dearest — have  got  only  a  little  while 
to  live.  Let  us  be  happy — happy — happy !  " 

"  But  you  forget,  you've  married  a  poor  man,"  he 
protested.  "  We've  got  our  living  to  make." 

"  Oh — of  course,"  said  she.  "  I'd  hate  for  you 
to  be  anything  but  independent." 

"  If  I  were,  you'd  soon  lose  respect  for  me,  as  I 
should  for  myself." 

"  Yes — you  must  work,"  she  conceded.  "  But  not 
too  hard.  You  mustn't  crowd  me  aside."  She  clasped 
her  arms  more  tightly  about  his  neck.  "  I'd  hate  you, 
if  you  made  me  second  to  anybody  or  anything.  I'm 
horribly  jealous,  and  I  know  I'd  end  by  hating  you." 

The  way  to  reassure  her,  for  the  moment,  was  ob 
vious  and  easy;  and  he  took  it.  They  talked  no  more 
of  "  our "  work  until  they  got  back  to  New  York. 
There,  it  was  hard  for  him  to  find  time  to  go  to  the 
office ;  for  she  was  always  wanting  him  to  do  some 
thing  with  her,  and  as  luck  would  have  it,  the  things 
he  really  couldn't  get  out  of  doing  without  offending 
her  always  somehow  came  in  office  hours.  Sometimes 
he  had  a  business  appointment  he  dared  not  break;  he 
would  explain  to  her,  and  she  would  try  to  be  "  sen 
sible."  But  she  felt  irritated — was  he  not  her  husband, 
and  is  not  a  husband's  first  duty  to  his  wife? 

"  Why  do  you  make  so  many  appointments  just 
when  you  know  I'll  need  you?  "  she  demanded.  "  I  be 
lieve  you  do  it  on  purpose ! " 

He  showed  her  how  unreasonable  this  was,  and  she 
laughed  at  herself.  But  her  feeling  at  bottom  was  un 
changed.  After  much  casting  about  for  some  one  to 
blame  for  this,  to  her,  obvious  conspiracy  to  estrange 
her  husband  from  her,  she  fixed  upon  Narcisse.  "  She 
hates  me  because  I  took  him  away  from  her,"  she 

383 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

thought;  and  when  she  had  thought  it  often  enough, 
she  was  convinced.  Yes,  Narcisse  was  trying  to  drift 
them  apart.  And  she  ought  to  be  doubly  ashamed  of 
herself,  because  what  would  the  firm  of  A.  &  N.  Siers- 
dorf  amount  to  but  for  Alois  ?  Narcisse  was,  no  doubt, 
clever  in  a  way — but  almost  anybody  who  had  to  work 
and  kept  at  it  for  years,  could  do  as  well.  "  Why,  I, 
with  no  experience  at  all,  did  wonders  down  at  Over 
look — better  than  Narcisse  ever  did  anywhere."  In 
deed,  had  Narcisse  really  ever  done  anything  alone? 
"  She  has  been  living  off  Alois's  brains,  and  she's  try 
ing  to  get  him  back." 

That  was  all  quite  clear;  also,  a  loving  and  watch 
ful  wife's  duty  in  the  circumstances.  She  gave  Alois 
no  rest  until  he  had  agreed  to  break  partnership  and 
take  offices  alone.  "  When  you've  got  your  own  of 
fices,"  she  cried,  "  what  work  we  shall  do !  You  must 
go  down  early  and  stay  late,  and  I'll  have  an  office 
there,  too." 

So  weak  is  man  before  woman  on  her  knees  and 
worshipful,  Alois  began  dimly  to  believe  that  his  wife 
was,  in  a  measure,  right ;  that  Narcisse  had  been  some 
thing — not  much,  but  something — of  a  handicap  to 
his  genius;  that  her  prudence  and  everyday  practi 
cality  had  chained  down  his  soaring  imagination.  He 
had  no  illusions  as  to  the  help  Amy  would  give  him; 
there,  she  had  not  his  vanity  to  aid  her  in  deluding 
him.  But  he  felt  he  owed  it  to  himself  to  free  him 
self  from  the  partnership.  Anyhow,  something  was 
wrong;  something  was  preventing  him  from  doing 
good  work — and  it  was  just  as  well  to  see  if  that  some 
thing  was  his  sister.  "  The  sooner  I  discover  just  what 
I  am,  the  better,"  he  reasoned.  And  he  had  no  mis 
givings  as  to  the  event. 

384 


FORAGING   FOR    SON-IN-LAW 

Narcisse  made  the  break  easy  for  him.  When  she 
came  back  from  Neva's,  she  met  him  in  her  usual 
friendly  way,  and  herself  opened  the  subject.  "  I 
think  we'd  better  each  go  it  alone,"  said  she,  as  if  she 
had  not  penetrated  the  meaning  of  his  letter.  "  You've 
reached  the  point  where  you  don't  want  to  be  both 
ered  with  the  kind  of  things  I  do  best.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,  too,"  confessed  he.  "  But 
I —  Do  you  really  want  it,  Cis  ?  " 

"  No  sentiment  in  business,"  replied  she  in  her 
most  offhand  manner.  "  If  each  of  us  can  do  better 
alone,  it'd  be  silly  not  to  separate.  Anyhow,  where's 
the  harm  in  trying?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  suggest  that  we  take  offices  a  little 
further  uptown,"  he  went  on.  "  We  might  do  that, 
and  keep  on  as  we  are  for  a  while." 

"  No.  You  move ;  let  me  keep  these  offices.  I'm 
like  a  cat ;  I  get  attached  to  places." 

And  so  it  was  settled.  "  Narcisse  Siersdorf ,  Build 
er,"  appeared  where  "  A.  &  N.  Siersdorf,  Builders," 
had  been.  "  Alois  Siersdorf,  Architect,"  appeared 
upon  the  offices,  spacious  and  most  imposing,  in  a  small 
but  extravagantly  luxurious  bank  building  in  Fifth 
Avenue,  within  a  few  blocks  of  home — "  home  "  being 
Josiah  Fosdick's  house. 

Amy  insisted  on  their  living  "  at  home  "  because 
her  father  couldn't  be  left  quite  alone;  and  Alois  sat 
rent  and  food  free;  he  had  made  a  vigorous  fight  for 
complete  independence  in  financial  matters,  but  noth 
ing  had  come  of  it — he  felt  that  it  was  ridiculous  sol 
emnly  to  give  Amy  each  month  a  sum  which  would 
hardly  pay  for  her  dresses.  "  You  are  too  funny 

385 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

about  money,"  she  said.  "  Why  attach  so  much  im 
portance  to  it?  We  put  it  all  in  together,  and  no 
doubt  some  months  you  pay  more  than  our  share,  other 
months  less — but  what  of  that?  You  can't  expect  me 
to  bother  my  head  with  horrid  accounts.  And  I  simply 
won't  have  you  talking  such  matters  with  the  house 
keeper — and  who  else  is  there  ?  " 

Alois  grumbled,  but  gradually  yielded.  He  con 
soled  himself  with  the  reflection  that  presently  his 
business  would  pay  hugely,  and  then  the  equilibrium 
would  be  restored.  And  after  a  while — an  extremely 
short  while — he  thought  no  more  about  the  matter. 
This,  in  face  of  the  fact  that  the  business  did  not  ex 
pand  as  he  had  dreamed.  He  was  offered  plenty  to 
do  at  first,  for  he  had  reputation  and  the  rich  were 
eager  for  his  services.  But  he  simply  could  not  find 
time  to  attend  to  business ;  he  had  to  leave  everything, 
even  the  making  of  plans,  to  assistants.  There  were 
all  sorts  of  entertainments  to  which  he  must  go  with 
Amy — rides,  coaching  expeditions,  luncheons,  after 
noon  bridge  parties,  week-end  visits.  And  often  he  was 
up  until  very  late  at  balls ;  she  loved  to  dance,  and  he 
found  balls  amusing,  too.  Indeed,  he  was  well  pleased 
with  all  the  gayety.  Everybody  paid  court  to  him ;  the 
husband  of  an  heiress,  and  a  distinguished,  a  success 
ful,  a  famous  man,  one  whose  opinions  in  professional 
matters  were  quoted  with  respect.  And  as  everybody 
talked  and  acted  as  if  he  were  doing  well,  were  rising 
steadily  higher  and  higher,  he  could  not  but  talk  and 
act  and  feel  so,  himself — most  of  the  time.  He  knew, 
as  a  matter  of  theory,  that  success  of  any  kind,  except 
in  being  rich,  and  that  exception  only  for  the  enor 
mously  rich,  is  harder  to  keep  than  to  win,  must  be 
won  all  over  again  each  day.  But  in  those  sur- 

386  * 


FORAGING   FOR    SON-IN-LAW 

roundings  he  could  not  feel  this ;  he  seemed  secure, 
permanent. 

It  was  not  long  before  all  their  world,  except  only 
her  and  him,  knew  he  had  practically  given  up  the 
profession  of  architect  for  that  of  husband.  The 
outward  forms  of  deference  to  the  famous  young  archi 
tect  deceived  him,  enabled  him  to  deceive  himself;  but 
his  friends,  in  his  very  presence,  and  just  out  of  ear 
shot,  often  in  undertones  at  his  father-in-law's  table, 
were  sneering  or,  what  is  usually  the  same  thing, 
moralizing.  "  Poor  Siersdorf !  How  he  has  fagged 
out.  "  Well,  was  there  as  much  to  him  as  some  peo 
ple  said?  And  they  tell  me  he  is  living  off  his 
wife." 

When  matters  reach  this  pass,  and  when  the  man 
is  really  a  man,  the  explosion  is  not  far  off.  It  came 
with  the  first  bitter  quarrel  he  and  Amy  had.  She 
wished  him  to  go  away  with  her  for  two  months;  he 
wished  to  go,  and  it  infuriated  him  against  himself  that 
he  had  so  far  lost  his  pride  that  he  could  even  con 
sider  leaving  his  business  when  it  needed  him  im 
peratively.  He  curtly  refused  to  go ;  by  degrees  their 
discussion  became  a  wrangle,  a  quarrel,  a  pitched  bat 
tle.  She  was  the  first  completely  to  lose  control  of 
temper.  She  cast  about  for  some  missile  that  would 
hit  hard. 

"  What  does  this  business  of  yours  amount  to, 
anyhow?  "  she  jeered.  "  Sometimes,  I  can't  help  won 
dering  what  would  have  become  of  you  if  you  hadn't 
married  me." 

She  didn't  mean  it;  she  was  hardly  conscious  that 
she  was  saying  it  until  the  words  were  out.  She  grew 
white  and  shrank  before  the  damage  she  knew  she  must 
have  done.  He  did  not,  could  not,  answer  immediately. 

387 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

When  he  did,   it  was  a  release   of  all  that  had  been 
poisoning  him  for  months. 

"You  think  that,  do  you?"  he  cried.  "I  might 
have  known !  You  dare  to  think  that,  when  you  are 
responsible ! " 

"  That's  manly,"  she  retorted,  eager  to  extricate 
herself  by  putting  him  in  the  wrong. 

He  strode  to  her;  he  was  shaking  with  fury. 
"  We'll  not  talk  about  what's  manly  or  womanly. 
Let's  look  at  the  facts.  I  loved  you,  and  you  took 
advantage  of  it  to  ruin  my  career,  to  make  it  impos 
sible  for  me  to  work,  to  drive  away  my  clients.  You 
have  taken  my  reputation,  my  brain,  my  energy.  And 
you  dare  to  taunt  me!  Men  have  killed  women  for 
less." 

"  Alois !  "  she  sobbed.  "  Don't  frighten  me.  Don't 
look — speak — like  that!  Oh,  I'm  not  responsible  for 
what  I  say.  I  know  I've  been  selfish — it's  all  my  fault. 
But  what  does  anything  matter  except  our  happiness? 
Forgive  me.  You  know  why  I'm  so  bad  tempered  now 
— so  different  from  my  usual  self."  And  the  sobs 
merged  into  a  flood  of  hysterical  tears. 

The  reference  to  her  condition,  to  their  expecta 
tions,  softened  him,  caused  his  anger  at  once  to  begin 
to  change  into  bitter  shame,  a  shame  to  be  concealed, 
to  eat,  acidlike,  in  and  in  and  make  a  wound  that 
would  never  heal,  but  would  grow  in  venom  until  it 
would  torture  him  without  ceasing. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  work,"  she  wept.  "  I  want 
you  all  to  myself.  Ah,  Alois,  some  time  you'll  appre 
ciate  my  love;  you'll  realize  that  love  is  better  than  a 
career.  And  for  you  " — sob — "  to  reproach  me  " — 
sob,  sob — "  when  I  thought  you  were  as  happy  as  I !  " 
A  wild  outburst  of  grief. 

388 


FORAGING   FOP    SON-IN-LAW 

And  he  was  consoling  her,  had  her  in  his  arms,  was 
lulling  her  and  himself  in  the  bright  waves  of  the  pas 
sion  which  she  could  always  evoke  in  him,  as  he  in  her. 
Never  again  did  she  speak  of  his  dependent  position; 
it  always  made  her  flesh  creep  and  chill  to  remember 
what  she  had  said.  But  from  that  time  she  was  dis 
tinctly  conscious  that  he  was  a  dependent — and  she 
no  longer  respected  him.  From  that  time,  he  clearly 
recognized  his  own  position.  He  thought  it  out,  de 
cided  to  make  a  bold  stand;  but  he  felt  he  could  not 
begin  at  once.  In  her  condition  she  must  not  be 
crossed;  he  must  go  away  with  her,  since  go  she  must 
and  go  alone  she  could  not.  He  would  make  a  new 
beginning  as  soon  as  the  baby  was  born. 

Meanwhile,  his  office  expenses  were  heavy,  and  the 
money  he  had  saved  before  he  was  married  was  gone. 
He  went  into  debt  fast,  terrifyingly  fast.  He  bor 
rowed  two  thousand  dollars  of  Narcisse ;  he  hoped  it 
would  last,  as  usually  Amy's  bills  were  all  paid  by  her 
father.  But  they  were  away  from  Fosdick's  house, 
and  she,  thinking  and  knowing  nothing  about  money, 
continued  to  spend  as  usual.  He  got  everything  on 
credit  that  did  not  have  to  be  paid  for  at  once ;  but 
in  spite  of  all  his  contriving,  when  they  reached  New 
York  again  he  was  really  penniless.  He  went  to  Nar- 
cisse's  office;  she  was  out  of  town.  In  desperation  he 
borrowed  five  hundred  dollars  from  his  brother-in-law. 

Hugo  loaned  the  money  as  if  the  transaction  were 
a  trifle  that  was  making  no  impression  on  him.  Like 
all  those  who  think  of  nothing  but  money,  he  affected 
to  think  nothing  of  it.  He  noted  Alois's  nervousness, 
then  his  thin  and  harassed  look.  "  How  do  Amy  and 
Alois  live?  "  he  asked  his  father. 

389 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Live  ?  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Josiah. 
"  Why,  they're  perfectly  happy.  What  put  such  non 
sense  in  your  head?  " 

"Oh,  bother!"  exclaimed  Hugo.  "Certainly 
they're  happy.  Amy'd  be  a  fool  not  to  be  happy  with 
as  decent  a  chap  as  he  is.  I  mean,  how  do  they  get 
along  about  money  ?  " 

"  He's  got  a  good  business,"  said  Fosdick.  "  You 
know  it  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  He  used  to  have,"  replied  Hugo.  "  But  he's  too 
busy  with  Amy  to  be  doing  much  else.  He's  always 
standing  on  her  dress.  And  he  has  no  partner." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Fosdick. 
"  If  Amy  needed  money,  she'd  come  to  me."  Fosdick 
recalled  that  he  had  been  paying  even  heavier  bills  for 
her  since  she  was  married ;  but  he  had  no  mind  to  speak 
of  it  to  Hugo,  as  he  did  not  wish  Hugo  to  misunder 
stand.  "  You  attend  to  your  own  affairs,  boy,"  he 
continued.  "  Those  two  are  all  right."  And  he 
beamed  benevolently.  He  delighted  in  Amy's  happi 
ness,  felt  that  he  was  entirely  responsible  for  it. 

But  Hugo  was  not  to  be  put  off.  "  Believe  me, 
father,  Alois  is  down  to  bed-rock.  He  can't  speak  to 
Amy  about  it,  or  to  you.  He's  a  gentleman.  It's  up 
to  you  to  do  something  for  him." 

"  I  guess  looking  after  Amy  does  keep  his  time 
pretty  well  filled  up,"  chuckled  the  old  man,  much 
amused.  "  I'll  fix  him  a  place  in  the  O.  A.  D. — some 
thing  that'll  give  him  a  good  income  and  not  take  his 
mind  entirely  off  his  job." 

"  Why  not  get  Armstrong  to  make  him  supervising 
architect?  A  big  public  institution  like  that  ought  to 
pay  more  attention  to  cultivating  the  artistic  side.  He 
could  think  out  and  carry  out  some  general  plan  that'd 

390 


FORAGING   FOE   SON-IN-LAW 

harmonize  to  high  standards  all  the  buildings,  especially 
the  dwelling  and  apartment  houses  they  own  in  the 
provinces."  Hugo  spoke  of  the  O.  A.  D.  as  "  they  " 
nowadays,  though  he  still  thought  of  it  as  "  we." 

"  That's  a  good  idea,  Hugo,  as  good  as  any  other. 
I'll  see  Armstrong  to-day.  I  oughtn't  to  have  neg 
lected  putting  Alois  on  the  pay  rolls.  I'll  give  him 
something  in  the  railway,  too.  We'll  fix  him  up  hand 
somely.  He's  a  fine  young  fellow,  and  he  has  made 
Amy  happy.  You  don't  appreciate  that,  you  young 
scoundrel,  as  we  of  the  older  generation  do."  And 
Hugo  had  to  listen  patiently  to  a  discourse  on  decay 
ing  virtue  and  honor  and  family  life;  for,  like  all 
decaying  men,  Fosdick  mistook  internal  symptoms 
for  an  exterior  and  universal  phenomenon,  just  as  a 
man  who  is  going  blind  cries,  "  The  light  is  getting 
dim !  " 

Fosdick  did  not  forget.  Now  that  his  attention 
was  upon  the  matter,  he  reproached  himself  severely 
for  his  oversight.  "  I've  been  taking  care  of  scores 
of  people,  and  neglecting  my  own.  But  I'll  make  up 
for  it."  He  ordered  the  president  of  the  railway  to 
put  Alois  on  the  pay  rolls  at  once  with  a  salary  of 
twelve  thousand  a  year.  "  You  need  somebody  to  su 
pervise  the  stations.  Everybody's  going  in  for  art, 
nowadays,  and  we  want  the  best.  Mail  him  his  first 
check  to-day,  with  the  notice  of  his  appointment." 

In  the  full  glow  of  generosity,  he  went  up  to 
see  Armstrong.  They  were  great  friends  nowadays. 
Since  the  peace,  not  a  trace  of  cloud  had  come  be 
tween  them;  he  was  careful  to  keep  his  hands  entirely 
off  the  O.  A.  D. ;  Armstrong,  on  his  side,  gave  the 
Fosdick  railway  and  industrial  enterprises  the  same 
"  courtesies  "  they  had  always  enjoyed,  except  that  he 

391 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

charged  them  the  current  rate  of  interest,  instead  of 
the  old  special  rate. 

"  Horace,"  he  began,  "  I  suppose  you'll  soon  be 
organizing  the  construction  department  on  broader 
lines.  I've  come  to  put  in  a  good  word  for  my  son- 
in-law.  I  don't  need  to  say  anything  about  his  merits 
as  an  architect.  As  you  know,  there's  none  better." 

"  None,"  said  Armstrong  heartily.  "  Anything  we 
want  in  his  line,  he'll  get." 

"  Thanks.  Thanks.  My  idea,  though,  was  a  little 
more  definite.  I  was  thinking  you  might  want  a  man 
to  pass  on  all  buildings,  plans,  improvements.  He 
could  raise  the  value  of  the  company's  property — par 
ticularly  the  dwelling  and  apartment  houses." 

"  That's  a  valuable  suggestion,"  said  Armstrong. 
"  And  Siersdorf  would  be  just  the  man  for  the  place. 
But  will  he  take  it?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  But  he'd  have  to  be  traveling  about,  most  of  the 
time.  He'd  be  in  the  West  and  South,  where  we're 
trying  to  get  back  the  ground  lost  in  those  big  exposes. 
I  shouldn't  think  he'd  care  for  that  sort  of  life." 

Fosdick  was  disconcerted.  "  I  suppose  that  could 
be  arranged.  You  wouldn't  expect  a  man  of  Siers- 
dorf's  caliber  to  go  chasing  about  the  country  like  a 
retail  drummer.  He'd  have  assistants  for  that,  and 
drawings  and  pictures  and  those  sort  of  things  could 
be  forwarded  to  him  here." 

"  That  would  hardly  do,"  replied  Armstrong,  like 
a  man  advancing  cautiously,  but  determined  to  ad 
vance.  "  Then,  there's  the  matter  of  pay.  The  work 
would  take  all  of  his  time,  and  we  couldn't  afford  much 
of  a  salary.  I  should  say  the  job  was  rather  for  some 
talented  young  fellow,  trying  to  get  a  start." 

392 


FORAGING   FOR   SON-IN-LAW 

"  You'd  simply  waste  whatever  money  you  paid 
such  a  man,"  Fosdick  objected  with  a  restraint  of  tone 
and  manner  that  astonished  himself.  "  No,  what  you 
want  is  a  high-class,  a  first-class,  man  at  a  good  salary 
— a  first-class  man's  salary." 

"  Say — how  much  ?  "  inquired  Armstrong. 

"  I  was  thinking  twenty  thousand  a  year — or,  per 
haps  fifteen."  The  lower  figure  was  an  amendment 
suggested  by  the  tightening  of  Armstrong's  lips. 

Armstrong  saw  the  point.  What  Fosdick  was 
after  was  a  sinecure;  a  soft  berth  for  his  son-in-law 
to  luxuriate  idly  in ;  another  and  a  portly  addition 
to  the  O.  A.  D's  vast  family  of  "  fixed  charges."  "  I'd 
like  to  oblige  you,  Mr.  Fosdick,"  said  he,  with  the 
reluctance  of  a  man  taking  a  new  road  where  the  pas 
sage  looks  doubtful  and  may  be  dangerous.  "  And  I 
hate  to  deprive  the  O.  A.  D.  of  the  chance  to  get  Siers- 
dorf's  services  at  what  is  undoubtedly  a  bargain.  But, 
as  you  may  perhaps  have  heard,  I'm  directing  all  my 
efforts  to  lopping  off  expenses.  I'm  trying  to  get  the 
O.  A.  D.  on  a  basis  where  we  can  pay  the  policy  holders 
a  larger  share  of  the  profits  we  make  on  their  money. 
Perhaps,  later  on,  I  can  take  the  matter  up.  But  I 
hope  you  won't  press  it  at  present." 

The  words  were  careful,  the  tone  was  most  cour 
teously  regretful.  But  the  refusal  was  none  the  less 
a  slap  in  the  face  to  a  man  like  Fosdick.  "  As  you 
please,  as  you  please,"  he  said  hurriedly,  and  with 
averted  eyes.  "  I  just  thought  it  was  a  good  arrange 
ment  all  around.  .  .  .  Everything  going  smoothly  ?  " 

"  So-so." 

"  Well,  good  day." 

And  he  went,  with  a  friendly  nod  and  handshake 
that  did  not  deceive  Armstrong.  He  drove  to  the 
26  393 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

magnificent  Hearth  and  Home  Defender  building  which 
Trafford  and  his  pals  had  built  for  their  own  profit 
out  of  their  stealings  from  millions  of  working  men 
and  women  and  children  of  the  poorest,  most  ignorant 
class.  Trafford  received  his  fellow  adept  in  the  art 
of  exploiting  as  Fosdick  loved  to  be  received;  he  did 
not  let  him  finish  his  request  before  granting  it.  "  An 
excellent  idea,  Fosdick,"  he  cried.  "  I  understand  per 
fectly.  I'll  see  that  we  get  Siersdorf  at  once.  Would 
fifteen  thousand  be  too  small  ?  " 

"  About  right,  as  a  starter,  I  should  say,"  was 
Fosdick's  judicial  answer.  "  You  see,  the  thing's  more 
or  less  an  experiment." 

"  But  certain  to  succeed,"  said  Trafford  confi 
dently.  "  And,  of  course,  we'll  accept  any  arrange 
ments  Mr.  Siersdorf  may  make  about  assistants.  We 
can't  expect  him  to  give  us  all  his  time.  We'll  be  quite 
content  with  his  advice  and  judgment.  You've  put  me 
under  obligations  to  you." 

Fosdick's  eyes  sparkled.  As  he  went  away,  he 
said  to  himself,  "  Now,  there's  a  big  man,  a  gentle 
man,  one  who  knows  how  to  do  business,  how  to  treat 
another  gentleman.  I  must  put  him  in  on  something 
good." 

And  he  did. 


394 


XXIX 


WHEN  Armstrong  saw  the  announcement  of  Fred 
eric  Carlin's  death,  he  assumed  Neva  would  soon  be  in 
New  York,  to  escape  the  loneliness  of  Battle  Field.  He 
let  three  weeks  pass,  after  her  brief  but  gentle  and 
friendly  answer  to  his  telegram  of  condolence.  Then, 
he  wrote  her  he  was  going  to  Chicago  and  wished  to 
stop  at  Battle  Field;  she  replied  that  she  would  be 
glad  to  see  him.  He  took  the  first  Westbound  express 
— the  through  limited  which,  at  his  request,  dropped 
him  at  the  little  town  it  had  always  before  rushed  past 
at  disdainful  speed.  The  respect  with  which  he  was 
treated,  the  deference  of  those  who  recognized  him  at 
the  station,  the  smallness  and  simplicity  of  the  old 
town,  all  combined  to  put  the  now  triumphant  and 
autocratic  president  of  the  mighty  O.  A.  D.  in  the 
mood  to  appreciate  every  inch  of  the  dizzy  depth  down 
from  where  he  now  blazed  in  glory  to  where  he  had 
begun,  a  barefoot  boy  in  jeans,  delivering  groceries 
at  back  doors  and  alley  gates.  It  was  not  in  Arm 
strong  to  condescend;  but  it  is  in  the  sanest  of  us 
poor  mortals,  with  our  dim  sense  of  proportion  and 
our  feeble  sense  of  humor  where  we  ourselves  are  the 
joke,  to  build  up  a  grandiose  mood  upon  less  founda 
tion  of  vanity  of  achievement  than  had  Armstrong. 
The  mood  gave  him  a  feeling  of  confidence,  of  conquest 

395 


LIGHT-FIN GERED    GENTRY 

impending,  as  he  strode  in  at  the  gate  beside  the  drive 
into  the  Carlin  place  a  full  hour  before  he  was  ex 
pected.  Memory  was  busy — not  by  any  means  alto 
gether  unpleasantly — as  he  went  more  slowly  up  the 
narrow  walk  to  the  old  square  stone  house,  with  its 
walls  all  but  hidden  under  the  ivy,  with  its  verandas 
draped  in  honeysuckle,  and  its  peaceful,  dignified  fore 
ground  of  primeval  elms.  The  past  was  not  quite  for 
gotten;  but  he  felt  that  it  was  completely  expiated. 
He  had  paid  for  his  ingratitude,  his  selfishness,  his 
blindness,  his  folly — had  paid  in.  full,  with  interest. 

He  ascended  to  the  veranda  before  the  big  oak 
front  doors.  The  only  life  in  view  was  a  humming 
bird  flitting  and  balancing  like  a  sprite  among  the 
honeysuckle  blooms.  The  doors,  the  windows  on  either 
side,  were  open  wide ;  he  looked  in  with  the  future- 
focused  eyes  of  the  practical  man  of  affairs.  His 
past  did  not  advance  from  those  familiar  rooms  to 
abash  him.  On  the  contrary  his  eager  gaze  entered, 
searching  for  his  future. 

"  We  must  have,  will  have,  a  place  like  this  near 
New  York,"  thought  he.  "Why  not  m  New  York? 
I  can  afford  it." 

He  rang  several  times  at  long  intervals ;  it  was 
Neva  herself  who  finally  came — Neva,  all  in  black  and, 
so  it  seemed  to  him,  more  beautiful  than  ever.  That 
she  was  glad,  more  than  glad,  at  sight  of  him  was 
plain  to  be  seen  in  the  color  which  submerged  her 
pallor,  in  the  swift  lighting  up  of  her  eyes,  like  the 
first  flash  of  stars  in  the  night  sky.  But  there  was 
in  her  manner,  as  well  as  in  her  garb,  a  denial  of 
the  impulse  of  his  impetuous  passion ;  the  doubts  that 
had  tormented  him  began  to  bore  into  his  mood  of  self- 
confidence.  She  took  him  to  the  west  veranda,  with  its 

396 


IF   I   MARRIED    YOU 


luminous  green  curtains  of  morning-glory.  She  made 
him  seat  himself  in  the  largest  and  laziest  chair  there, 
all  the  while  covering  the  constraint  with  the  neutral 
conversation  which  women  command  the  more  freely, 
the  more  difficult  the  situation.  When  the  pause  came 
he  felt  that  she  had  permitted  it,  that  she  was  ready 
to  hear — and  to  speak.  The  doubts  had  made  such 
inroads  upon  his  assurance  that  his  tone  was  less  con 
clusive  than  he  would  have  liked,  as  he  began: 

"  Neva,  I've  come  to  take  you  back  to  New 
York." 

Her  expression,  her  manner  brought  vividly  back 
to  him  that  crucial  talk  of  theirs  at  the  lake  shore. 
Only,  now  the  advantage  was  wholly  with  her,  where 
then  it  had  been  so  distinctly  on  his  side  that  he  had 
pitied  her,  had  felt  almost  cowardly.  He  looked  at  her 
impassive  face,  impossible  to  read,  and  there  rose  in 
him  a  feeling  of  fear — the  fear  every  man  at  times  has 
of  the  woman  into  whose  hands  his  love  has  given  his 
destiny. 

"  Everything  is  waiting  on  you,"  he  went  on. 
"  The  way  lies  smooth  before  us.  You  have  brought 
me  good  fortune,  Neva.  My  future — our  future — is 
secure.  With  you  to  help  me  I  shall  go  to  the  top. 
So — come,  Neva !  "  And  his  heart  filled  his  eyes. 

She  waited  a  moment  before  answering.  "  If  we 
should  fail  this  time,  it  would  be  the  end,  wouldn't  it?  " 
she  said. 

"  But  we  can't  fail !  "  he  protested.  He  was  strong 
in  his  assurance  once  more;  did  not  her  question  imply 
that  she  loved  him? 

"  We  failed  before,  and  we  were  younger  and  more 
adaptable." 

"  But  now  we  understand  each  other." 
397 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  Do  we  ?  "  she  said,  her  eyes   gravely  upon  him. 

"  How  can  you  ask  that !  " 

"  Because  so  much  depends  on  our  seeing  the  truth 
exactly.  The  rest  of  our  lives  is  at  stake." 

"  Yes.  I  can't  go  on  without  you.  Can  you  go 
on  without  me  ?  " 

"  Each  of  us,"  she  replied,  "  can  go  on  without 
the  other.  I  can  paint  pictures ;  you  can  make  money. 
The  question  is,  what  will  we  mean  to  each  other  if 
we  go  on  together?  We  aren't  children  any  more, 
Horace.  We  are  a  man  and  a  woman  full  grown,  ex 
perienced,  unable  to  blind  ourselves  even  in  our  follies. 
And  we  aren't  simply  rushing  into  an  episode  of  pas 
sion  that  will  rage  and  die  out.  If  it  were  merely 
that,  I  shouldn't  be  asking  you  and  myself  questions. 
When  the  end  came,  we  could  resume  our  separate  lives ; 
and,  even  if  our  experience  had  cost  us  dear  instead  of 
helping  us,  still  we  could  recover,  would  in  time  be 
stronger  and  better  for  having  had  it.  But  you  offer 
me  your  whole  self,  your  whole  life,  and  you  ask  me 
to  give  you  mine.  You  ask  me  to  marry  you." 

He  did  not  understand  this;  woman  meant  to  him 
only  sex,  and  the  difference  between  love  and  passion 
was  a  marriage  ceremony.  He  felt  that  in  what  she 
said  there  lurked  traces  of  the  immorality  of  the 
woman  who  tries  to  think  for  herself  instead  of  prop 
erly  selecting  a  proper  man  and  letting  him  do  the 
thinking  for  both.  "  I  love  you,"  said  he,  "  and  there's 
the  whole  story.  Love  doesn't  reason;  it  feels." 

"  Then  it  ought  never  to  get  married,"  she  said. 
"  We  tried  marriage  once  on  the  basis  of  husband  and 
wife  being  absolute  strangers  to  each  other,  and  at 
cross  purposes."  She  paused;  he  did  not  suspect  it 
was  to  steady  her  constantly  endangered  self-control. 

398 


"IF   I   MARRIED    YOU 


"And,"  she  added,  "I  shall  never  try  that  kind  of 
marriage  again.  Passion  is  a  better  kindler  than 
worldliness,  but  it  is  just  as  poor  fuel." 

"  Neva !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  couldn't  be  merely  your  mistress,  Horace.  I'd 
want  you,  and  I'd  want  you  to  take  me,  all  of  me. 
I'd  want  it  to  be  our  life,  and  not  merely  an  episode 
in  our  life.  Can't  you  see  what  would  come  afterwards 
— when  you  had  grown  calm  about  me — and  I  about 
you?  Can't  you  see  that  you'd  turn  back  to  your 
business  and  prostitute  yourself  for  money,  while  I'd 
turn  perhaps  to  luxury  and  show  and  prostitute  my 
self  to  you  for  the  means  to  exhibit  myself?  Don't 
you  see  it  on  every  side,  there  in  New  York — the  traffic 
in  the  souls  of  men  and  women  viler  than  any  on  the 
sidewalks  at  night — the  brazen  faces  of  the  men, 
flaunting  their  shame,  the  brazen  faces  of  the  women, 
the  so-called  wives,  flaunting  their  shame?'' 

"  But  you  could  never  be  like  them,"  he  protested. 
"  Never ! " 

"  As  strong  women  as  I,  stronger,  have  been 
dragged  down.  No  human  being  can  resist  the  slow, 
steady,  insidious  seduction  of  his  daily  surround- 
ings." 

"  I  don't  understand  this  at  all,  Neva,"  he  said, 
though  his  ill-concealed  anger  showed  that  he  did.  In 
deed,  so  angry  was  he  that  he  was  almost  forgetting 
his  own  warnings  to  himself  of  the  injustice  of  holding 
her  responsible  for  anything  she  said  in  her  obviously 
unstrung  condition.  He  asked,  "  What  have  you  to 
do  with  that  sort  of  woman  ?  "  He  hesitated,  forced 
himself  to  go  boldly  on.  "  Why  do  you  compare  me 
to  those  men?  7  do  not  degrade  myself." 

She  did  not  answer  immediately,  but  looked  away 
399 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

across  the  beds  of  blooming  flowers.  When  she  began 
again,  she  seemed  calmer,  under  better  control.  "  All 
the  time  I  was  in  New  York,"  she  said,  "  the  life  there 
— the  real  life  of  money  getting  and  money  spending 
— never  touched  me  personally  until  toward  the  last. 
Then — I  saw  what  it  really  meant,  saw  it  so  plainly 
that  I  can't  ever  again  hide  the  truth  from  myself. 
And  since  I  came  away — out  here — where  it's  calm,  and 
one  thinks  of  things  as  they  are — where  father  and 
the  other  way  of  living  and  acting  toward  one's  fellow 
beings,  took  strong  hold  of  me " 

"But,  Neva— you " 

"  Please,  let  me  finish,"  she  begged,  all  excitement 
once  more.  "  It's  so  hard  to  say — so  much  harder 
than  you  think.  But  I  must — must — must  let  you  see 
what  kind  of  woman  I  am,  who  it  is  you've  asked  to 
be  your  wife.  As  I  remember  my  acquaintances  in 
New  York,  our  friends,  do  you  know  what  I  always 
feel?  I  remember  their  palaces,  their  swarms  of  ser 
vants,  their  jewels,  their  luxuries,  the  food  they  eat, 
the  wine  they  drink,  all  of  it;  and  I  wonder  just  whose 
dollar  was  stolen  to  help  pay  for  this  or  that  luxury, 
just  who  is  in  want,  how  many  are  in  want,  that  that 
carriage  might  roll  or  the  other  automobile  go  darting 
about.  You  'know  the  men  steal  it;  they  don't  know 
from  whom,  and  so  they  can  brazen  it  out  to  them 
selves." 

"  That  is  harsh — too  harsh,  Neva !  " 

She  did  not  heed  his  interruption.  "  They  can 
brazen  it  out,"  she  went  on,  "because  no  one  can  or 
will  come  forward  and  say,  <  Take  off  that  new  string 
of  pearls.  Your  husband  stole  the  money  from  me 
to-day  to  buy  it.'  He  did  steal  it,  but  not  that  day, 
not  directly  from  one  person,  but  indirectly  from 

400 


IF   I   MARRIED    YOU" 


many  who  hardly,  if  at  all,  knew  they  were  being 
robbed.  That  is  what  New  York  has  come  to  mean 
to  me  these  last  few  weeks — my  New  York  and  yours 
— the  people  we  know  best." 

"  But  we  need  not  know  them.  Have  what  friends 
you  please."  He  took  an  air  of  gentleness,  of  forbear 
ance  with  her.  He  reminded  himself  that  she  was  over 
wrought  by  her  father's  illness  and  death,  that  she  was 
not  in  condition  to  see  things  normally  and  practically ; 
such  hysterical  ideas  as  these  of  hers  naturally  bred 
and  flourished  in  the  miasmatic  soil  and  atmosphere  of 
the  fresh  grave. 

"Don't  you  see  it?"  she  cried  desperately.  "I 
mean  you — Horace — you,  that  ask  me  to  be  your 
wife." 

"  Me !  "     His  amazement  was  wholly  genuine. 

"  Yes — you !  "  And  she  lost  all  control  of  herself, 
was  seized  and  swept  away  by  the  emotions  that  had 
grown  stronger  and  stronger  during  her  father's  ill 
ness,  and  since  his  death  had  dominated  her  day  and 
night  in  her  loneliness.  The  scarlet  of  fever  was  in 
her  cheeks,  its  flame  in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  you,  Horace,"  she  repeated.  "  Can't  you  see 
I'd  be  worse  than  uneasy  about  everything  we  bought, 
about  every  dollar  we  spent?  When  you  left  me  to  go 
downtown  in  the  morning,  I'd  be  thinking,  '  Who  is 
the  man  I  love  going  to  rob  to-day?  '  And  when  you 
came  back  at  night,  when  your  hands  touched  mine, 
I'd  be  shuddering — for  there  might  be  blood  on 
them !  "  She  covered  her  face.  "  There  would  be 
blood  on  them.  Happiness !  Why,  I  should  be  in 
hell!  And  soon  you'd  hate  me  for  what  I  would  be 
thinking  of  you,  would  despise  me  for  living  a  life  I 
thought  degrading." 

401 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

If  he  had  been  self -analytic,  he  would  have  sus 
pected  the  origin  of  the  furious  anger  that  surged  up 
in  him.  "  I  see !  "  said  he,  his  voice  hard.  "  If  these 
notions,"  he  sneered,  "  were  to  prevail  among  the 
women,  about  all  the  strongest  men  in  the  country 
would  lose 'their  wives." 

"  That  is  not  the  question,"  she  answered,  mad 
dened  by  his  manner.  "  I'm  only  trying  to  make  you 
acquainted  with  me.  I  don't  understand,  as  I  look  at 
it,  now  that  my  eyes  have  opened,  how  a  woman  can 
live  with  a  man  who  kills  hundreds,  thousands  with  his 
railway,  to  make  dividends,  or  who  lets  thousands  live 
in  hovels  and  toil  all  the  daylight  hours  and  half  starve 
part  of  the  year  that  he  may  have  a  bigger  income. 
Oh,  I  don't  know  the  morals  of  it  or  the  practical 
business  side  of  it.  And  I  don't  want  to  know.  My 
instinct  tells  me  it's  wrong,  wrong.  And  I  dare  not 
have  anything  to  do  with  it,  Horace,  or  I'd  become  like 
those  women,  those  so-called  respectable  women,  one 
sees  driving  every  afternoon  in  Fifth  Avenue,  with 
their  hard,  selfish  faces.  Ah,  I  see  blood  on  their 
carriage  wheels,  the  blood  of  their  brothers  and  sis 
ters  who  paid  for  carriage  and  furs  and  liveries  and 
jewels.  It  would  be  dreadful  enough  for  the  intelli 
gent  and  strong — for  men  like  you,  Horace — to  take 
from  the  ignorant  and  weak  to  buy  the  necessities  of 
life.  But  to  snatch  bread  and  shelter  and  warmth 
and  education  from  their  fellow  beings  to  buy  vani 
ties —  It  isn't  American — it  isn't  decent — it  isn't 
brave!" 

He  saw  that  it  would  be  idle  to  argue  with  her. 
Indeed,  he  began  to  feel,  rather  than  to  see,  that  be 
neath  her  hysteria  there  was  something  he  would  have 
to  explore,  something  she  was  terribly  in  earnest 

402 


"IF    I   MARRIED    YOU 


about.  There  was  a  long  silence,  she  slowly  calming, 
he  hidden  behind  the  mask  of  that  handsome,  rugged 
face  in  which  strength  yielded  so  little  for  grace. 
"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  "  he  said 
unemotionally. 

"  All  I  can,"  she  replied.  "  I  can  refuse  to  live 
that  sort  of  life,  to  live  on  human  flesh  and  blood.  I 
know  good  people  do  it,  people  who  are  better  than 
I.  And  if  it  seems  right  to  them,  why,  I  don't  judge 
them.  Only,  it  doesn't  seem  right  to  me.  I  wish  it 
did.  I  wish  I  could  shut  my  eyes  again.  But — I  can't. 
My  father  won't  let  me ! " 

He  made  a  movement  that  suggested  shrinking. 
But  he  said  presently,  "  I  still  don't  see  where  /  come 
in.  In  our  business  we  don't  get  money  that  way." 

"  How  do  you  get  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  stared,  stolid  and  silent,  at  the  floor. 

"  You  told  me  once  that " 

"  In  some  moods  I  say  things  I  don't  altogether 
mean.  ...  I  don't  moon  about  the  miseries  I  can't 
possibly  cure,"  he  went  on.  "  I  don't  quibble ;  I  act. 
I  don't  criticise  life ;  I  live.  I  don't  create  the  world 
or  make  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest ;  I  simply 
accept  conditions  I  could  not  change.  As  for  this 
so-called  stealing,  even  the  worst  of  the  big  men  take 
only  what's  everybody's  property  and  therefore  any 
body's." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  she,  "  the  question  always 
is,  '  Does  this  property  belong  to  me? '  and  if  the 
answer  is  '  No,'  then  to  take  it  is — "  She  paused  be 
fore  the  word. 

"  To  steal,"  he  said  bluntly. 

She  made  no  comment.  Finally  he  went  on :  "  Let 
us  understand  each  other.  You  refuse  to  marry  me 

403 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

unless  I  abandon  my  career,  and  sink  down  to  a  posi 
tion  of  no  influence — become  a  nobody.  For,  of  course, 
I  can't  play  the  game  unless  I  play  it  under  the 
rules.  At  least,  I  can  think  of  no  way." 

"  I  see  I  didn't  express  myself  well,"  she  replied. 
"  I've  not  tried  to  make  conditions.  I've  simply  shown 
you  what  kind  of  woman  you  were  asking  to  marry 
you — and  that  you  don't  want  her — that  you  want 
only  the  part  of  me  that  for  the  moment  appeals  to 
your  senses.  If  I  had  married  you  without  telling  you 
what  was  in  my  mind  and  heart  would  it  have  been 
fair  to  you  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  Would  it  have  been  fair,  Horace  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said — a  simple  negative. 

"  You  see  that  you  do  not  want  me — that  you 
would  find  me  more,  far  more,  of  a  drag  on  your 
career  than  I  was  before — a  force  pulling  back  in 
stead  of  merely  a  dead  weight." 

He  was  looking  at  her — was  looking  from  behind 
his  impenetrable  mask.  He  looked  for  a  long  time, 
she  now  meeting  his  gaze  and  now  glancing  away.  At 
last  he  said,  with  slow  deliberateness :  "  I  see  that  I  came 
seeking  a  mistress.  Whether  I  want  her  as  a  wife,  I 
don't  know.  Whether  she  wants  me  as  a  husband — I 
don't  know."  He  relapsed  into  thought  which  she  did 
not  interrupt. 

When  he  rose  to  go,  he  did  not  see  how  she  flushed 
and  trembled,  and  fought  down  the  longing  to  say 
the  things  that  would  have  meant  retreat. 

"  I  feel,"  said  he  with  a  faint  smile,  "  like  a  man 
who  goes  down  to  the  pier  thinking  he  is  about  to  take 
an  outing  for  the  day,  and  finds  that  if  he  goes  aboard 
he  will  be  embarked  for  a  life  journey  into  new  lands 

404 


"IF  I   MARRIED    YOU" 

and  will  never  come  back.  I  never  before  really 
grasped  what  marriage  means." 

She  had  always  been  fascinated  by  his  eyes,  which 
seemed  to  her  to  contain  the  essence  of  all  that  at 
tracted  and  thrilled  and  compelled  her  in  the  idea, 
man.  As  she  stood  touching  the  hand  he  extended, 
she  had  never  felt  his  eyes  so  deeply ;  never  before  had 
there  been  in  them  this  manly  gentleness  of  respect  and 
consideration.  And  her  faltering  courage  took  heart. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  New  York,"  he  said.  "  I 
want  to  look  about  me." 

She  looked  straight  and  calm ;  but,  through  her 
hand,  he  felt  that  she  was  vibrating  like  a  struck,  tense 
violin  string.  "  Some  men  want  a  mistress  when  they 
marry,"  she  went  on,  smiling-serious,  "  and  some  want 
a  housekeeper,  and  some  a  parlor  ornament,  and  some 
a  mother  for  their  children.  But  very  few  want  a 
wife.  And  I " — she  sighed.  "  I  couldn't  do  any 
thing  at  any  of  the  other  parts,  unless  I  were  also  the 
wife." 

"  I  understand— at  last,"  he  said.  "  Or  rather,  I 
begin  to  understand.  You  have  thought  it  out.  I 
haven't — and  I  must." 

She  hoped  he  would  kiss  her;  but  he  did  not.  He 
reluctantly  released  her  hand,  gave  her  a  lingering 
look  which  she  had  not  the  vanity  or  the  buoyance 
rightly  to  interpret,  then  gazed  slowly  round  the  gar 
dens,  brilliant,  alluring,  warm.  She  stood  motionless 
and  tense,  watching  his  big  form,  his  strong  shoulders 
and  forcefully  set  head  as  he  crossed  the  gardens,  went 
down  the  walk  and  through  the  gate,  to  be  hidden  by 
the  hedge  between  the  lawns  and  the  street.  When  the 
last  echo  of  his  firm  step  had  ceased  in  her  ears,  she 
collapsed  into  the  chair  in  which  he  had  sat,  and  was 

405 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

all  passion  and  tenderness  and  tears  and  longings  and 
fears. 

"  He  thinks  me  cold !  He  thinks  me  cold !  "  she 
cried.  "Oh,  Father,  why  won't  You- let  me  be  weak? 
Why  can't  I  take  less  than  all?  Why  can't  I  trust 
him,  when  I  love  him  so !  " 


406 


XXX 

BY    A    TRICK 

BY  itself,  Armstrong's  insult  to  Fosdick  in  refus 
ing  to  "  take  care  of  "  his  son-in-law  would  have  been 
of  small  consequence,  unpleasant  reminder  of  his  shorn 
power  and  rude  check  to  his  benevolent  instincts  though 
it  was.  Fosdick  was  not  likely,  at  least  soon,  to  for 
get  his  lesson  in  the  wisdom  of  letting  the  big  West 
erner  alone.  Also,  Armstrong  was  useful  to  him — not 
so  useful  as  a  tool  in  the  same  position  would  have 
been ;  still,  far  more  useful  than  a  representative  of 
some  hostile  interest.  But  this  insult  was  the  latest 
and  the  rashest  of  a  series  of  similar  insults  which  Arm 
strong  had  been  distributing  right  and  left  with  an 
ever  freer,  ever  bolder  hand.  While  he  was  "  thinking 
over  "  Neva's  plain  talk  with  him,  he,  by  more  than 
mere  coincidence,  was  experimenting  with  a  new  policy 
which  was  in  the  general  direction  of  the  one  he  had 
adopted  as  soon  as  he  got  control  of  the  O.  A.  D.  It 
was  a  policy  of  "  anti-graft  " ;  and  once  he  had  in 
augurated  it,  once  he  had  begun  to  look  about  him  in 
the  O.  A.  D.  for  opportunities  to  stop  the  plundering, 
and  the  pilfering  as  well,  he  had  pushed  on  far  beyond 
where  he  originally  intended  to  halt — as  a  strong  man 
always  does,  whatever  the  course  he  chooses. 

Everyone  belongs  to  some  section  or  class.  He 
may  quarrel  with  individuals  in  that  class,  he  may 

407 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

quarrel  with  individuals  in  another  class,  or  with  the 
whole  of  it;  but  he  may  not  break  with  the  whole 
of  his  own  class.  Be  he  cracksman  or  financier  or 
preacher  or  carpenter  or  lawyer  or  what  not,  he  must 
be  careful  not  to  get  his  own  class,  as  a  class,  against 
him.  If  he  does,  he  will  find  himself  alone,  defense 
less,  doomed.  Armstrong  belonged  to  the  class  finan 
cier;  he  had  been  in  finance  all  his  grown-up  life.  He 
stood  for  the  idea  financier  in  the  minds  of  financiers, 
in  his  own  mind,  in  the  public  mind.  His  battles  with 
his  fellow-financiers,  being  within  the  class  lines,  had 
strengthened  him,  had  given  him  clear  title  to  recog 
nition  as  a  power  in  finance;  he  had  been  like  the 
politician  who  fights  his  way  through  and  over  his 
fellow  politicians  to  a  nomination  or  a  boss-ship, 
like  the  preacher  who  bears  off  the  bishopric  from  his 
rivals,  the  doctor  who  absorbs  the  patronage  of  the 
rich,  the  lawyer  who  succeeds  in  the  competition  among 
lawyers  for  the  position  of  chief  pander  to  the  pluto 
cratic  appetite  for  making  and  breaking  laws. 

But  this  new  policy  of  Armstrong's  was  a  policy 
of  war  on  his  own  class.  Cutting  down  commissions, 
cutting  out  "  good  things,"  lopping  off  sinecures,  bi 
secting  salaries — why,  he  was  hacking  away  at  the 
very  foundations  of  the  dominance  of  his  class !  No 
privileges,  no  parasitism,  no  consideration  for  gentle 
men,  no  "  soft  snaps,"  no  ornaments  on  the  pay  rolls 
— where  were  the  profits  to  come  from,  the  profits  that 
enabled  the  big  fellows  to  fatten,  that  filled  the  crib 
for  their  business  and  social  hangers-on?  Reform, 
economy,  stoppage  of  waste,  all  these  were  excellent 
to  talk  about;  and,  within  limits  that  recognized  the 
rights  of  the  dominant  classes,  even  might  be  prac 
ticed  without  offense,  especially  by  a  fellow  trying  to 

408 


BY   A    TRICK 


make  a  reputation  and  judiciously  doing  it  at  the  ex 
pense  of  financiers  who  had  lost  their  grip  and  so  could 
expect  no  quarter.  But  to  raise  the  banner  of  "  anti- 
graft  "  for  a  serious  campaign —  Anarchy,  socialism, 
chaos ! 

Armstrong  had  inaugurated  and  was  pressing  a 
war  on  his  own  class.  And  for  whose  benefit?  Not 
for  his  own ;  he  wasn't  enriching  himself — and  therein 
was  a  Phariseeism,  an  effort  to  pose  as  a  censor  of 
his  class,  that  alone  would  have  made  him  a  suspicious 
character.  He  was  fighting  his  own  class,  was  mak 
ing  traitorous,  familicidal  war  for  the  benefit  of  the 
common  enemy — the  vast  throng  of  the  people  who 
hated  the  upper  classes,  as  everybody  knew,  and  were 
impudently  restless  in  their  God-appointed  position  of 
hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water  for  the  financial 
aristocracy.  Were  not  the  people  weakening  danger 
ously  in  reverence  for  and  gratitude  to  their  superiors, 
the  great  and  good  men  who  provided  them  with  work, 
took  care  of  their  savings  for  them,  supported  the 
church  that  guarded  their  souls  and  the  medical  pro 
fession  that  healed  their  bodies,  paid  all  the  taxes, 
undertook  all  the  large  responsibilities  —  and  did 
this  truly  godlike  work,  supported  this  Atlantean 
burden,  in  exchange  for  a  trivial  commission  that 
brought  no  benefit  but  the  sorrows  of  luxury?  These 
were  the  ignoramuses  Armstrong  was  inflating,  these 
the  ingrates  he  was  encouraging.  Already  he  had 
doubled  the  dividends  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  had  made  them 
a  seeming  rebuke  to  the  other  insurance  companies. 
Competition — yes !  But  not  the  cutthroat,  wicked, 
ruinous  competition  that  would  destroy  his  own  class, 
its  profits  and  its  power.  If  he  were  permitted  to 
persist,  the  clamor  for  so-called  "  honesty "  might 
27  409 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

spread  from  policy  holders  to  stockholders,  to  wage 
earners,  to  the  whole  mass  of  the  wards  of  high 
finance.  And  they  might  compel  the  upper  class  to 
grant  them  more  money  to  waste  in  drink  and  in 
wicked  imitation  of  the  luxury  of  their  betters ! 

Armstrong  was  expelling  himself  from  his  own 
class — into  what?  Except  in  finance,  high  finance, 
what  career  was  there  for  him?  He  would  be  like  a 
politician  without  a  party,  like  a  general  without  an 
army,  like  a  preacher  without  a  parish,  like  a  disbarred 
lawyer.  His  reputation  would  be  gone — for  morality 
is  a  relative  word,  and  by  his  conduct  he  was  con 
vincing  the  only  class  important  to  him  as  a  man  of 
action  that  he  had  not  the  morality  of  his  class,  that 
he  could  not  be  trusted  with  its  interests.  Every  era, 
every  race,  every  class  has  its  own  morality,  its  own 
practical  application  of  the  general  moral  code  to  its 
peculiar  needs.  The  class  financier,  in  the  peculiar 
circumstances  surrounding  life  in  the  new  era,  had  its 
code  of  what  was  honest  and  what  dishonest,  what 
respectable  and  what  disreputable,  what  loyal  and 
what  disloyal.  Under  that  code  his  new  course  was 
disloyal,  disreputable,  was  positively  dishonest.  It 
would  avail  him  nothing,  should  other  classes  vaguely 
approve;  if  his  own  class  condemned,  he  was  damned. 

"  A  hell  of  a  mess  I'm  getting  into,"  reflected  he, 
"  with  trying  to  play  one  game  by  the  rules  of  an 
other."  He  saw  his  situation  clearly,  but  he  had  no 
disposition  to  turn  back.  "  All  in  a  lifetime !  "  he 
concluded  with  a  shrug.  "  I'll  just  see  what  comes  of 
it.  Anything  but  monotony."  To  him  monotony,  the 
monotony  of  simply  taking  in  and  putting  away  for 
his  own  use  money  confided  to  him,  was  the  dullest  of 
lives — and  it  was  beginning  to  seem  the  most  contempt- 

410 


BY   A    TRICK 


ible — "  like  going  through  the  pockets  of  sleepers," 
said  he  to  himself. 

He  saw  the  storm  coming.  Not  that  there  were 
any  clouds  or  gusty  winds ;  the  great  storms,  the  cy 
clones,  don't  come  that  way.  No,  his  sky  was  serene 
all  round ;  everything  looked  bright,  brilliant.  But 
there  was  an  ominous  stillness  in  the  air — that  dead, 
dead  calm  which  fills  an  experienced  weather  expert 
with  misgivings.  Before  the  great  storms  that  ex 
plode  out  of  those  utter  calms,  the  domestic  animals 
always  act  queerly ;  and,  in  this  case,  that  sign  was 
not  lacking.  The  big  fellows  beamed  on  him,  were 
most  polite,  most  eager  for  his  friendship.  Not  so 
the  little  fellows — the  underlings,  both  in  the  O.  A.  D. 
and  in  its  allied  banks  and  in  the  institutions  of 
high  finance  into  which  Armstrong  happened  to  go. 
At  sight  of  him  they  became  agitated,  nervous,  stood 
aloof,  watched  him  furtively. 

But  he  went  his  new  way  steadily,  as  if  he  did  not 
know  what  was  impending.  It  secretly  amused  him 
greatly  to  observe  his  directors.  The  new  board  he 
had  selected  was  composed  of  men  of  substantial  for 
tune,  who  were  just  outside  high  finance — business 
men,  trained  in  business  methods.  But  they  had  been 
agitated  by  what  they  had  seen  and  heard  and  read 
of  the  financiers — of  the  vast  fortunes  quickly  made, 
of  the  huge  mysterious  profits,  of  the  great  enterprises 
where  the  financier  risked  only  other  people's  money, 
and  stood  to  lose  nothing  if  the  venture  failed,  kept 
all  the  profits  if  it  succeeded.  They  longed  for  these 
fairylike  lands  where  money  grew  on  bushes  and  the 
rivers  ran  gold.  And  when  they  were  invited  into 
the  directory  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  they  thought  they  were 
at  last  sweeping  through  the  gates  from  the  real  world 

411 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

of  business  to  the  Hesperian  Gardens  of  finance.  As 
they  sat  at  the  meetings,  hearing  Armstrong  and  his 
lieutenants  give  accounts  of  economies  and  safe  invest 
ments  and  profits  for  the  policy  holders,  each  felt  like 
a  child  who  had  been  led  to  believe  it  was  going  to 
a  Christmas  festival  and  finds  that  it  has  been  lured 
into  a  regular  session  of  the  Sunday  school.  Why,  the 
honor  and  the  director's  fees  were  all  there  was  in  it ! 

Then  there  were  the  agents,  the  officials,  the  staff 
of  the  company,  high  and  low,  far  and  near.  To  the 
easy-going,  golden  days  of  finance  had  succeeded  these 
sober  days  of  business.  Instead  of  generosity,  free 
Hinging  about  of  the  money  that  came  in  so  easily, 
there  was  now  the  most  rigid  economy — "  regular, 
damn,  pinch-penny  honesty,  complained  Duncan,  the 
magnificent  agent  at  Chicago.  "  I  tell  you  frankly, 
Armstrong,  I'm  going  to  get  out.  It  isn't  worth  the 
while  of  a  man  of  my  ability  to  work  for  what  the 
•company  now  allows." 

"  Sorry  to  lose  you,  old  man,"  said  Armstrong, 
"  but  we  can't  allow  any  secret  rake-offs." 

It  was  Duncan  who  precipitated  the  cyclone.  A 
cyclone  at  its  start  is  a  little  eddy  of  air  which  hap 
pens  to  be  set  whirling  by  a  chance  twist  of  a  sun 
beam  glancing  from  a  cloud.  Millions  of  these  eddies 
occur  every  hour  everywhere.  Only  when  conditions 
are  just  right  does  a  cyclone  result,  does  the  eddy 
continue  to  whirl,  draw  more  and  more  air  in  com 
motion,  get  a  forward  impulse  that  increases,  until  in 
an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  destruction  is  rag 
ing  over  the  land.  The  conditions  in  the  O.  A.  D. 
were  just  right.  Armstrong  was  hated  by  the  whole 
personnel,  at  home  and  abroad,  and  hated  as  only  the 
man  is  hated  who  cuts  his  fellows  off  from  "  easy 


BY   A    TRICK 


money."  And  he  had  not  a  friend.  Throughout  high 
finance,  he  was  hated  and  feared;  at  any  moment,  as 
the  result  of  his  doings,  some  other  big  institution, 
all  other  big  institutions  might  have  to  adopt  his 
policy.  Directors,  presidents,  officials  great  and  small, 
all  the  recipients  of  the  profits  from  the  system  of 
using  other  people's  money  as  if  it  were  your  own,  re 
garded  him  as  a  personal  enemy.  When  Duncan  said 
to  one  of  his  fellow  agents,  "  We  must  get  that  chap 
out,"  the  right  eddy  had  been  started. 

Within  two  weeks,  Duncan  was  at  the  head  of  an 
association  of  agents  gathering  proxies  from  the  pol 
icy  holders  to  oust  the  Armstrong  regime.  Duncan 
and  his  fellow  conspirators  sent  out  a  circular,  calling 
attention  to  the  recent  rise  in  the  profits  to  policy 
holders.  "  It  is  evident,"  said  the  circular,  "  that 
there  has  been  mismanagement  of  our  interests,  and 
that  the  present  powers  have  been  frightened  into  giv 
ing  us  a  little  larger  part  of  our  own.  We  ought  to 
have  it  all !  Send  your  proxies  to  the  undersigned,  that 
the  O.  A.  D.  may  be  reorganized  upon  an  honest, 
democratic  basis.  A  new  broom,  a  clean  sweep !  " 

Duncan  in  person  came  to  Armstrong  with  one  of 
the  circulars.  "  There's  nothing  underhand  about 
me,"  said  he  as  he  handed  it  to  the  president.  "  Here's 
our  declaration  of  war." 

Armstrong  glanced  at  it,  smiled  satirically. 
"  You've  sent  copies  to  the  newspapers  also,  haven't 
you?"  replied  he.  "As  you  couldn't  possibly  keep 
the  matter  secret,  I  can't  get  excited  about  your  can 
dor."  And  he  tossed  the  circular  on  his  desk. 

"  When  you  read  it,  you'll  see  we're  fighting  fair," 
said  Duncan. 

"  I've  read  it,"  was  Armstrong's  answer.  "  One  of 
413 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

my  friends  among  the  agents  sent  me  a  copy  a  week 
ago — the  day  you  drew  it  up." 

Duncan  began  to  "  hedge."  "  I  don't  want  you  to 
have  any  hard  feelings  toward  me,"  said  he.  "  All  the 
boys  were  hot  for  this  thing,  and  I  had  to  go  in  with 
them." 

"  You  were  displaced  as  general  Western  agent 
this  morning,"  said  Armstrong  tranquilly.  "  I  tele 
graphed  your  assistant  to  take  charge.  I  also  tele 
phoned  him  a  memorandum  of  what  you  owe  the 
company,  with  instructions  to  bring  suit  unless  you 
paid  up  in  three  days." 

"  It  ain't  fair  to  single  me  out  this  way,"  cried 
Duncan.  "  It's  persecution." 

"  I  haven't  singled  you  out,"  said  Armstrong.  "  I 
bounced  the  whole  crowd  of  you  at  the  same  time,  and 
in  the  same  way.  You  charge  me  with  extravagance. 
Well,  you  see,  I've  admitted  the  charge  and  have  be 
gun  to  retrench." 

Duncan's  fat,  round  face  was  purple  and  his  brown 
eyes  were  glittering.  "  You  think  you've  done  us  up," 
said  he,  with  a  nasty  laugh.  "  But  you're  not  as 
*  cute '  as  you  imagine.  We  provided  against  just  that 
move." 

"  I  see  that  your  committee  of  policy  holders  to 
receive  proxies  are  dummies,"  replied  Armstrong.  "  I 
know  all  about  your  arrangements." 

"  Then  you  know  we're  going  to  win." 

Armstrong  looked  indifferent.  "  That  remains  to 
be  seen,"  said  he.  "  Good  morning." 

When  Duncan  had  got  himself  out  of  the  room, 
Armstrong  laid  the  circular  beside  the  one  he  himself 
had  written  and  sent  to  each  of  the  seven  hundred 
thousand  policy  holders.  His  circular  was  a  straight- 

414 


BY   A    TRICK 


forward  statement  of  the  facts — of  how  and  why  his 
policy  of  economy  had  stirred  up  all  the  plunderers  of 
the  company,  great  and  small.  It  ended  with  a  re 
quest  that  proxies  be  sent  direct  to  him,  by  those  who 
wished  the  new  order  to  persist  and  did  not  wish  a 
return  to  the  old  order  with  its  long-standing  and 
grave  abuses.  He  compared  the  two  circulars  and 
laughed  at  himself.  "  Mine's  the  unvarnished  truth," 
thought  he.  "  But  it  doesn't  sound  as  probable,  as 
reasonable,  as  Duncan's  lies.  If  the  policy  holders  do 
stand  by  me,  it'll  be  because  most  people  are  fools 
and  hit  it  right  by  accident.  Most  of  us  are  never  so 
wrong  as  in  our  way  of  being  right.  The  wise  thing  is 
always  to  assume  that  the  crowd  that's  in  is  crooked." 
If  Armstrong  had  been  a  reformer,  with  the  pas 
sion  to  reorganize  the  world  on  his  own  private  plan, 
and  in  the  event  of  the  world's  failure  to  recognize 
his  commission  as  vice-regent  of  the  Almighty,  ready 
to  denounce  it  as  a  hopeless  case — if  Armstrong  had 
been  a  professional  regenerator,  those  would  have 
been  trying  days  for  him.  The  measures  he  took  that 
were  the  most  honest  and  the  most  honorable  were  the 
very  measures  that  made  the  other  side  strong.  He 
had  weeded  out  a  multitude  of  grafters  and  had  shown 
an  inflexible  purpose  to  weed  out  the  rest;  and  so 
he  had  organized  and  made  powerful  the  conspiracy 
to  restore  graft.  He  had  attacked  the  men — the  big 
agents — who  were  using  their  influence  with  the  policy 
holders  to  enable  them  to  rob  freely;  and  so  he  had 
stirred  up  those  traitors  still  further  to  cozen  their 
victims.  He  had  cut  down  the  enormous  subsidies  to 
the  press,  had  cut  off  the  graft  of  the  great  financiers 
who  were  the  powers  behind  the  great  organs  of  public 
opinion;  and  so  he  had  enlisted  the  press  as  an  open 

415 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

and  most  helpful  ally  of  the  conspirators.  The  policy 
holders  were  told  by  agents — whom  they  knew  per 
sonally  and  regarded  as  their  representatives — that 
Armstrong  was  the  "  thieving  tool  of  the  Wall  Street 
crowd  " ;  the  policy  holders  read  in  their  newspapers 
that  "  on  the  whole  the  O.  A.  D.  would  probably  bene 
fit  by  a  new  management  selected  by  the  body  of  the 
policy  holders  themselves."  It  was  ridiculous,  it  was 
tragic.  Armstrong  laughed,  with  a  heavy  and  at 
times  a  bitter  heart.  "  I  don't  blame  the  poor  devils," 
he  said.  "  How  are  they  to  know  ?  I'm  the  damn 
fool,  not  they — I  who,  dealing  with  men  all  these  years, 
have  put  myself  in  a  position  where  I  am  appealing 
from  the  men  who  run  the  people  to  the  people,  who 
always  have  been  run  and  always  will  be." 

Still,  he  began  to  hope  against  hope,  as  the  proxies 
rolled  in  for  him — by  hundreds,  by  thousands,  by  tens 
of  thousands.  Most  of  the  letters  accompanying  the 
proxies  justified  his  cynical  opinion  that  the  average 
man  is  never  so  wrong  as  when  he  is  right ;  the  writers 
gave  the  most  absurd  reasons  for  supporting  him,  not 
a  few  of  them  frankly  saying  that  it  was  to  the  best 
interest  of  the  company  to  leave  the  control  to  the 
man  who  was  in  with  the  powers  of  Wall  Street !  But 
there  were  letters,  hundreds  of  them,  from  men  and 
women  who  showed  that  they  understood  the  situation ; 
and,  curiously  enough,  most  of  these  letters  were  badly 
written,  badly  spelled,  letters  from  so-called  ignorant 
people.  It  was  a  striking  exhibit  of  how  little  edu 
cation  has  to  do  with  brains.  "  I've  always  said," 
thought  Armstrong,  "  that  our  rotten  system  of  edu 
cation  is  responsible  for  most  of  the  fools  and  all  the 
damn  fools,  but  I  never  before  knew  how  true  it  was." 

And  the  weeks  passed,  and  the  annual  meeting 
416 


BY  A    TRICK 


and  election  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  Instead  of  Arm 
strong's  agitation  increasing,  it  disappeared  entirely. 
Within,  he  was  as  calm  as  he  had  all  along  seemed  at 
the  surface.  It  was  an  unexpected  reward  for  trying 
to  do  the  square  thing.  He  was  eminently  practical  in 
his  morals,  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  turn  the 
other  cheek,  was  disposed  to  return  a  blow  both  in 
kind  and  in  degree.  But  he  knew,  also,  that  the  calm 
he  now  felt  was  due  to  the  changed  course,  could  never 
have  been  his  in  the  old  course. 

On  the  morning  of  the  great  day,  he  stopped  shav 
ing  to  look  into  his  own  eyes  reflected  in  the  glass. 
"  Old  man,"  said  he  aloud,  "  there's  much  to  be  said 
for  being  clean — reasonably,  humanly  clean.  It  begins 
to  have  compensations  sooner  than  the  preachers  seem 
to  think." 


As  Armstrong  entered  the  splendid  assembly  cham 
ber  of  the  new  O.  A.  D.  building,  the  first  figure  his 
eyes  hit  upon  was  that  of  Hugo  Fosdick,  entering  at 
the  opposite  door.  To  look  at  him  was  like  hearing  a 
good  joke.  He  was  walking  as  if  upon  air,  head  rear 
ing,  lofty  brow  corrugated,  eyes  rolling  and  serious, 
shoulders  squared  as  if  bearing  lightly  a  ponderous 
burden.  Of  all  the  trifles  that  flash  and  wink  out  upon 
the  expanse  of  the  infinite,  the  physically  vain  man 
seems  the  most  trivial.  The  so-called  upper  classes, 
being  condemned  to  think  about  themselves  almost  all 
the  time,  furnish  to  the  drama  of  life  the  most  of 
the  low  comedy,  with  their  struttings  and  swellings 
and  posings.  Those  who  in  addition  to  class  vanity 
have  physical  vanity  are  the  clowns  of  the  great  show. 
Hugo  was  of  the  clowns — and  he  dressed  the  part, 
that  day.  He  had  on  a  tremendously  loud  tweed  suit, 

417 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

a  billycock  hat  of  a  peculiar  shade  of  brown  to  match, 
a  huge  plaid  overcoat ;  he  was  wearing  a  big,  rough- 
looking  chrysanthemum  that  seemed  of  a  piece  with  his 
tie;  he  diffused  perfume  like  a  woman  who  wishes  to 
be  known  by  the  scent  she  uses.  As  he  drew  off  his 
big,  thick  driving  gloves,  he  gazed  grandly  around. 
His  eyes  met  Armstrong's,  and  his  haughty  lip  curled 
in  a  supercilious  smile. 

"  Did  you  come  down  in  an  auto  ?  "  some  one  asked 
him. 

"  No,  not  in  an  auto,"  he  said  in  a  voice  intended 
to  be  heard  by  all.  "  I  drove  down.  I've  dropped 
the  auto — it's  become  vulgar,  like  the  bicycle.  It  was 
merely  a  fad,  and  the  best  people  soon  exhausted  it. 
There's  no  chance  for  individual  taste  in  those  me 
chanical  things,  as  there  is  in  horses.  Anyone  can 
get  together  the  best  there  is  going  in  automobiles; 
but  how  many  men  can  provide  themselves  with  well 
turned  out  traps — horses,  harness,  the  men  on  the  box, 
just  as  a  gentleman's  turnout  should  be?  " 

One  of  the  Western  men  laughed  behind  his  hand, 
and  said,  "  Wot  t'  hell !  "  But  most  of  the  assembly 
gazed  rather  awedly  at  Hugo.  They  would  have 
thought  him  ridiculous  had  he  been  presented  to  them 
as  a  laugh-provoker ;  but,  as  he  was  presented  as  a 
representative  of  the  "  top  notch  "  of  New  York,  they 
were  respectfully  silent  and  obediently  impressed. 

And  now,  with  Randall,  a  Duncan  man,  in  the 
chair,  the  meeting  began — formalities,  reading  of  re 
ports  to  which  nobody  listened,  making  of  motions  in 
which  nobody  was  interested.  Half  an  hour  of  this, 
with  the  tension  increasing.  Duncan  had  dry-smoked 
three  cigars,  and  the  corners  of  his  fat  mouth  were 
yellow  with  tobacco  stains ;  Hugo,  struggling  hard  for 

418 


BY   A    TRICK 


a  gentleman's  sang  froid,  had  half  torn  out  the  sweat 
band  of  his  pot  hat,  had  bit  his  lip  till  it  bled.  He 
was  watching  Armstrong,  was  hating  him  and  envying 
him — for  the  big  Westerner  sat  at  the  right  of  the 
chairman  with  no  more  trace  of  excitement  on  his 
face  than  there  is  in  the  features  of  a  bronze  Buddha 
who  has  been  staring  cross-legged  into  Nirvana  for 
twenty-five  centuries. 

Nor  did  he  rouse  himself  when  the  election  began, 
though  a  nervous  shiver  like  an  electric  shock  visibly 
shook  every  other  man  in  the  room.  His  lieutenants 
proposed  his  list  of  candidates ;  Duncan's  men  pro 
posed  the  "  Popular  "  list ;  the  voting  began.  Barry, 
for  Armstrong,  cast  sixty-two  thousand  four  hun 
dred  and  fifteen  votes — the  proxies  that  had  come  in 
for  Armstrong  in  answer  to  his  appeal  and  also  the 
uncanceled  proxies  of  those  he  had  had  since  the  be 
ginning  of  his  term.  Duncan  and  his  crowd  burst  into 
a  cheer,  and  in  rapid  succession  nine  of  them  cast  forty- 
three  thousand  and  eleven  votes.  Then  they  turned 
anxious  eyes  on  Hugo.  Armstrong,  too,  looked  at 
him.  He  could  not  understand.  Hugo's  name  was  not 
on  the  Duncan  list  of  persons  to  whom  the  "  new 
broom "  proxies  were  to  be  sent.  Hugo,  pale  and 
trembling,  rose.  He  fixed  revengeful,  triumphant, 
gloating  eyes  upon  Armstrong  and  addressed  him,  as 
he  said  to  the  chairman,  "  For  Mr.  Wolcott  here,  I 
cast  for  the  Popular,  or  anti-Armstrong  ticket,  the 
proxies  of  ninety  thousand  six  hundred  and  four 
policy  holders." 

Armstrong  looked  at  Hugo  as  if  he  were  not  seeing 
him;  indeed,  he  seemed  almost  oblivious  of  his  sur 
roundings,  as  if  he  were  absorbed  in  some  tranquil, 
interesting  mental  problem.  Silence  followed  Hugo's 

419 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

announcement,  and  the  porters  brought  in  and  piled 
upon  the  huge  table,  over  against  the  now  insignificant 
bundles  of  Armstrong's  proxies,  the  packages  which 
were  the  tangible  demonstration  of  the  overwhelming 
force  and  power  of  his  foes.  As  the  porters  completed 
their  task,  the  spectacle  became  so  inspiring  to  Dun 
can  and  his  friends  that  they  forgot  their  dignity,  and 
gave  way  to  their  feelings.  They  yelled,  they  tossed 
their  hats ;  they  embraced,  shook  hands,  gave  each 
other  resounding  slaps  upon  the  shoulders.  Hugo 
condescended  to  join  in  their  jubilations,  never  tak 
ing  his  eyes  off  Armstrong's  face.  Armstrong  and 
Barry  and  Driggs  sat  silent,  Armstrong  impassive, 
Barry  frowning,  Driggs  gnawing  his  mustache.  Arm 
strong's  gaze  went  from  face  to  face  of  these  "  policy 
holders  " ;  on  each  he  saw  written  the  basest  emotions 
— emotions  from  the  jungle,  emotions  of  tusk  and 
claw.  The  O.  A.  D.  with  all  its  vast  treasures  was 
theirs  to  despoil — and  they  were  clashing  their  fangs 
and  licking  their  savage  chops  in  anticipation  of  the 
feast.  The  vast  majority  of  the  policy  holders  had 
been  too  indifferent  to  respond  to  the  appeal  of  either 
side — this,  though  the  future  of  their  widows  and  their 
orphans  was  at  stake!  Of  those  who  had  responded, 
the  overwhelming  majority  had  declared  against  Arm 
strong. 

He  had  long  known  it  would  be  so  and  had  re 
solved  to  accept  the  "  popular  mandate."  But  the 
gleam  of  those  greedy  eyes,  the  grate  of  that  greedy, 
gloating  laughter,  was  too  horrible.  "  I  can't  let 
things  go  to  hell  like  this !  "  he  muttered — and  he 
leaned  toward  Driggs  and  said  in  an  undertone,  "  I've 
changed  my  mind.  Carry  out  my  original  pro 
gramme." 

420 


BY   A    TRICK 


Driggs  suddenly  straightened  himself,  and  his 
face  changed  from  gloom  to  delight,  then  sobered  into 
alert  calmness.  Gradually  the  victors  quieted  down. 
"  Close  the  polls !  "  called  Duncan.  "  Nobody  else  is 
going  to  vote." 

"  Before  closing  the  polls,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said 
Driggs,  "  or,  rather,  before  the  proxies  offered  by 
Mr.  Fosdick  are  accepted,  I  wish  to  ask  Mr.  Wolcott 
a  question."  And  he  turned  toward  young  Wolcott, 
a  distant  relative  and  henchman  of  Duncan's  and  one 
of  the  three  men  in  whose  names  stood  all  the  "  new- 
broom  "  proxies. 

"How  old  are  you,  Mr.  Wolcott,  please?" 

Wolcott  stared  at  him,  glanced  at  Hugo,  at  Dun 
can,  grinned.  "  None  of  your  business,"  drawled  he. 
"  I  may  say  none  of  your  damn  business." 

Driggs  smiled  blandly,  turned  to  the  chairman. 
"  As  a  policy  holder  in  the  O.  A.  D.,"  he  said  gently, 
"  I  ask  that  all  the  proxies  on  which  the  name  of 
Howard  C.  Wolcott  appears  be  thrown  out." 

Duncan  and  Hugo  sprang  up.  "  What  kind  of 
trick  is  this?  "  shouted  Duncan  at  Armstrong. 

Armstrong  seemed  not  to  be  listening,  was  idly 
twisting  his  slender  gold  watch  guard  round  his  fore 
finger. 

"  By  the  constitution  of  the  association,"  pro 
ceeded  Driggs,  "  proxies  given  to  anyone  under  thirty 
years  of  age  or  to  any  committee  any  of  whose  mem 
bers  is  under  thirty  years  are  invalid.  I  refer  you  to 
Article  nine,  Section  five." 

"  But  Wolcott's  over  thirty,"  bawled  Duncan. 

"  I'm  thirty-one  —  thirty-two  the  sixth  of  next 
month,"  blustered  Wolcott.  "  I  demand  to  be  sworn." 

Driggs  drew  several  papers  from  his  pocket.  "  I 
421 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

have  here,"  he  pursued,  "  an  official  copy  of  Wolcott's 
application  for  a  marriage  license,  in  which  he  gives 
the  date  of  his  birth.  Also  the  sworn  statement  of 
the  physician  who  presided  over  his  entrance  into  this 
wicked  world.  Also,  an  official  copy  of  Wolcott's 
statement  to  the  election  registrars  of  Peoria,  where 
he  lives.  All  these  documents  agree  that  Mr.  Wolcott 
is  not  yet  twenty-nine."  Driggs  leaned  back  and 
smiled  benevolently  at  Wolcott.  "  I  think  Mr.  Wol 
cott's  own  testimony  would  be  superfluous." 

"  This  is  infamous — infamous !  "  cried  Hugo,  hys 
terically  menacing  Armstrong  with  his  billycock  hat 
and  big  driving  gloves  and  crimson-fronted  head. 

"  Of  all  the  outrages  ever  attempted,  this  is  the 
most  brazen !  "  shouted  Duncan. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Driggs,  in  that  same  gentle 
voice,  not  unlike  the  purring  of  a  stroked  cat,  "  I 
believe  the  Constitution  is  self -executing.  As  I  under 
stand  it,  all  the  proxies  collected  for  the  Duncan- 
Fosdick  party  are  on  the  same  form — the  one  author 
izing  Wolcott  and  two  others  to  cast  the  vote.  Thus, 
the  only  legal  votes  cast  are  those  for  the  regular 
ticket." 

"  The  election  must  be  postponed ! "  Duncan 
screamed,  waving  his  fists  and  then  beating  them  upon 
the  table.  "  This  outrage  must  not  go  on." 

The  chairman,  Randall,  had  been  a  Duncan  man. 
He  now  fled  to  the  victors.  "  There  is  no  legal  way 
to  postpone,  Mr.  Duncan,"  he  responded  coldly. 
"  No  other  votes  offering,  I  declare  the  polls  closed. 
Shall  we  adjourn  until  this  day  week,  gentlemen,  ac 
cording  to  custom,  so  that  the  tellers  may  have  time 
to  examine  the  vote  and  report  ?  " 

Armstrong  spoke  for  the  first  time.  "  Move  we 
422 


BY   A    TRICK 


adjourn,"  he  said,  rising  like  a  man  who  is  weary  from 
sitting  too  long  in  the  same  position.  Barry  seconded ; 
the  meeting  stood  adjourned.  Armstrong,  followed  by 
Barry  and  Driggs,  withdrew. 

As  soon  as  they  had  gone,  Hugo  blazed  on  Dun 
can.  "  You  are  responsible  for  this ! "  he  cried. 
"You  damn  fool!" 

Duncan  stared  stupidly.  Then,  by  a  reflex  action 
of  the  muscles  rather  than  as  the  result  of  any  order 
from  his  dazed  brain,  his  great,  fat-cushioned  fist 
swung  into  Hugo's  face  and  Hugo  was  flat  upon  his 
back  on  the  floor. 

"  Come  on,  boys,"  said  Duncan.  "  Let's  go  have 
a  drink  and  feel  ourselves  for  broken  bones." 


423 


XXXI 


ARMSTRONG  was  now  the  man  of  the  hour,  the  one 
tenant  of  the  public  pillories  who  was  sure  of  a  fling 
from  every  passer.  The  press  shrieked  at  him,  the 
pulpit  thundered ;  the  policy  holders  organized  into 
state  associations  and  threatened.  Those  who  had  sent 
him  proxies  wrote  revoking  them  and  denouncing  him 
as  having  betrayed  their  confidence.  Those  who  had 
given  the  Duncan  crowd  their  proxies  wrote  excoriat 
ing  him  for  taking  advantage  of  a  technicality  to  cheat 
them  out  of  their  rights  and  to  gain  one  year  more 
of  power  to  plunder. 

"  It's  a  blistering  shame !  "  cried  Barry,  wrought 
up  over  some  particularly  vicious  attack.  "  It's  so 
infernally  unjust ! " 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  replied  Armstrong,  as 
judicial  as  his  friend  was  infuriate.  "  The  people  are 
right ;  they  simply  are  right  in  the  wrong  way.  They 
think  I'm  part  of  the  system  of  wholesale,  respectable 
pocket-picking  that  has  grown  up  in  this  country. 
You  can't  blame  'em.  And  it  does  look  ugly,  my  using 
that  technical  point  to  save  myself." 

"  I  suppose  you  wish  you  had  stuck  to  your  first 
scheme,"  said  Barry,  sarcastic,  "  and  had  let  the  Dun 
can  broom  sweep  the  safes." 

"  No,      I      don't      repent,"      replied      Armstrong. 


I   DON'T    TRUST   HIM" 


"  When  I  decided  to  save  the  policy  holders  in  spite 
of  themselves,  I  knew  this  was  coming.  When  you 
try  to  save  a  mule  from  a  burning  stable,  you're  a 
fool  to  be  surprised  if  you  get  kicked." 

"  You're  not  going  to  pay  any  attention  to  these 
yells  for  you  to  resign?"  Barry  asked,  even  more 
alarmed  than  he  showed. 

"  No,  I'll  not  resign,"  said  Armstrong. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  do  something,  ought  to  meet 
these  charges.  You  ought  to  fight  back."  Barry  had 
been  waiting  for  three  weeks  in  daily  expectation ;  but 
Armstrong  had  not  moved,  had  given  no  sign  that 
he  was  aware  of  the  attack. 

"  Yes,  it  is  about  time,  I  guess,"  said  he.  "  Be 
ginning  to-day,  I  am  going  to  clean  out  of  the 
O.  A.  D.  all  that's  left  of  the  old  gang." 

Barry  looked  at  him  as  if  he  thought  he  had  gone 
crazy.  "  Why,  Horace,  that'll  simply  raise  hell !  "  he 
said.  "  We'll  be  put  out  by  force.  You  know  what 
everybody'll  say." 

Armstrong  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  put  his  big 
hands  behind  his  head  and  beamed  on  his  first  lieutenant. 
"  It  wouldn't  surprise  me  if  we  had  to  call  on  the 
police  for  protection  before  the  end  of  next  week." 

"  The  governor'll  be  forced  to  act,"  urged  Barry. 
"  As  it  is,  he's  catching  it  for  keeping  his  hands  off." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed.  Morris  understands  the  situ 
ation.  We  had  a  talk  last  night — met  on  a  corner 
and  walked  round  in  quiet  streets  for  two  hours." 

"He  sent   for  you,  did  he?" 

"  Yes.  He  was  weakening.  But  he's  all  right 
again." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  the  advantage  in  this  new  move, 
in  making  a  bad  matter  worse." 
28  425 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

"  The  worse  it  gets,  the  quicker  it'll  improve  when 
the  turn  comes,"  Armstrong  answered.  "  I've  got  to 
get  rid  of  the  old  gang — you  know  that.  They  were 
brought  up  on  graft.  They  look  on  it  as  legitimate. 
They  never'll  be  right  again,  and  if  a  single  one  of 
them  stays,  he'll  rot  our  new  force.  So  out  they  all 
go.  Now,  as  it's  got  to  be  done,  the  best  time  is  right 
now,  and  have  it  over  with.  I  tell  you,  Jim,"  and 
Armstrong  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  desk,  "  I'm 
going  to  put  this  company  in  order  if  I'm  thrown 
into  jail  the  day  after  I've  done  it!  But  I  ain't  going 
to  jail.  I'm  going  to  stay  right  here,  and,  inside  of 
six  months,  the  crowd  that's  howling  loudest  for  my 
blood  will  be  sending  me  proxies  and  praying  that  I'll 
live  forever." 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so,"  muttered  Barry 
gloomily. 

"  So  you've  lost  confidence  in  me,  too  ? "  Arm 
strong  said  this  with  more  mockery  than  reproach. 
"  It's  lucky  I  don't  rely  on  confidence  in  me  to  get 
results,  isn't  it?  Well,  Jim " 

"  Oh,  I'll  stand  by  you,  Armstrong,  faith  or  no 
faith,"  interrupted  Barry. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Armstrong,  somewhat  dryly. 
"  But  I'm  bound  to  tell  you  that  the  result  will  be 
just  the  same,  whether  you  do  or  not.  If  you  want  to 
accept  Trafford's  offer  that  you  have  taken  under  con 
sideration,  don't  hesitate  on  my  account." 

Barry  was   scarlet.      "  It   was   on   account   of   my 

family,"    he    stammered.       "  My    wife's    been    at    me 

j> 

"  Of  course  she  has,"  said  Armstrong.  "  Don't 
say  any  more." 

"  She's  like  all  the  women,"  Barry  insisted  on  say- 
426 


"I   DON'T   TRUST  HIM 


ing.  "  She  likes  luxury  and  all  that,  and  she's  afraid 
I'll  lose  my  hold,  and  she  knows  how  generous  Trafford 
is." 

"  Yes,"  drawled  Armstrong.  "  This  country  is 
full  of  that  kind  of  generosity  nowadays — generosity 
with  other  people's  money." 

"  The  women  don't  think  about  that  side  of  it," 
said  Barry.  "  They  think  that  as  pretty  much  every 
body's  doing  that  sort  of  thing — everybody  that  is 
anybody — why,  it  must  be  all  right.  And,  by  gad, 
Horace,  sometimes  it  almost  seems  to  me  I'm  a  fool, 
a  dumb  one,  to  stick  to  the  old-fashioned  ways.  Why 
be  so  particular  about  not  taking  people's  property 
when  they  leave  it  around  and  don't  look  after  it 
themselves,  and  when  somebody  else'll  take  it,  if  I 
don't — somebody  who  won't  make  as  good  use  of  it 
as  I  would  ?  " 

"  The  question  isn't  whose  property  it  is,  but  whose 
property  it  isn't,"  said  Armstrong.  "  And,  when  it 
isn't  ours,  why — I  guess  '  hands  off  '  is  honest — and 
decent."  And  then  he  colored  and  his  eyes  shifted, 
as  if  the  other  could  read  in  them  the  source  of  this 
idea  which  he  had  thought  and  spoken  as  if  it  were  his 
own. 

"  That's  my  notion,  too,"  said  Barry.  "  I  sup 
pose  I'll  never  be  rich.  But — "  His  face  became 
splendidly  earnest — "  by  heaven,  Armstrong,  I'll  never 
leave  my  children  a  dollar  that  wasn't  honestly  got." 

"  We're  rowing  against  the  tide,  Jim.  You  can't 
even  console  yourself  that  your  children  would  rather 
have  had  the  heritage  of  an  honest  name  than  the 
millions.  And  if  you  don't  leave  'em  rich,  they'll  either 
have  to  plunge  in  and  steal  a  fortune  or  become  the 
servants  of  some  rich  man  or  go  to  farming.  No,  even 

427 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

independent  farming  won't  be  open  by  the  time  they 
grow  up." 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  keep  on,"  replied  Barry. 
"  And  so  are  you." 

Armstrong  laughed  silently.  "  Guess  you're 
right,"  said  he.  "  God  knows,  I  tried  hard  enough  to 
turn  my  boat  round  and  row  the  other  way.  But  she 
would  swing  back.  Queer  about  that  sort  of  thing, 
isn't  it?  I  wonder,  Jim,  how  many  of  the  men  most 
of  us  look  on  as  obscurities  and  failures  are  in  the 
background  or  down  because  there  was  that  queer 
something  in  them  that  wouldn't  let  them  subscribe 
to  this  code  of  sneak,  stab,  and  steal?  We're  in  luck 
not  to  have  been  trampled  clean  under — and  our  luck 
may  not  hold." 

A  few  days,  and  Barry  decided  that  their  luck  was 
in  the  last  tailings.  Armstrong's  final  move  produced 
results  that  made  the  former  tempests  seem  mere  fresh 
weather.  The  petty  grafters  and  parasites  he  now  dis 
lodged  in  a  body  were  insignificant  as  individuals ;  but 
each  man  had  his  coterie  of  friends;  each  was  of  a 
large  group  in  each  city  or  town,  a  group  of  people 
similarly  dependent  upon  small  salaries  and  grafting 
from  large  corporations.  The  whole  solidarity  burst 
into  an  uproar.  Armstrong  was  getting  rid  of  all  the 
honest  men;  he  was  putting  his  creatures  in  their 
places,  so  that  there  might  be  no  check  on  the  flow 
of  plunder  from  the  pockets  of  policy  holders  into 
his  own  private  pocket.  The  man  was  the  greediest  as 
well  as  the  most  insolent  of  thieves !  This  was  the 
cry  in  respectable  circles  throughout  the  country — - 
for  his  "  victims  "  were  all  of  "  good  "  families,  were 
the  relatives,  friends,  dependents  of  the  leading  citi 
zens,  each  in  his  own  city  or  town. 

428 


I   DON'T    TRUST   HIM 


"  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  stop  until  things 
have  quieted  down  a  bit  ?  "  asked  Barry,  when  the  work 
was  about  half  done. 

"  Go  right  on !  "  said  Armstrong.  "  Tear  up  the 
last  root.  We  must  stand  or  fall  by  this  policy.  If 
we  try  to  compromise  now,  we're  lost.  The  way  to 
cut  off  a  leg  is  to  cut  it  off.  There's  a  chance  to 
survive  a  clean  cut,  but  not  a  bungle." 

A  fortnight,  and  all  but  a  few  of  his  personal 
friends  in  the  board  of  directors  resigned  after  the 
board  had,  with  only  nine  negative  votes,  passed  a 
resolution  requesting  him  to  resign.  And  finally,  the 
policy  holders  held  a  national  convention  at  Chicago, 
and  appointed  a  committee  of  five  to  go  to  New  York 
and  "  investigate  the  O.  A.  D.  from  garret  to  cellar, 
especially  cellar." 

"Now!"  cried  Armstrong  jubilantly,  when  the 
telegram  containing  the  news  was  laid  before  him. 

On  a  Thursday  morning  the  newspapers  told  the 
whole  country  about  the  convention,  the  committee,  the 
impending  capture  of  "  the  bandit."  On  Saturday 
toward  noon,  Armstrong  got  a  note :  "  I  am  stopping 
with  Narcisse.  Won't  you  come  to  see  me  this  after 
noon,  or  to-morrow — any  time? — Neva." 

He  read  the  note  twice,  then  tore  it  into  small 
pieces  and  tossed  them  into  the  wastebasket.  "  Not 
I !  "  said  he  aloud,  with  a  frown  at  the  bits  of  violet 
note  paper.  Through  all  those  weeks  he  had  been  hop 
ing  for,  expecting,  a  message  from  her — something 
that  would  help  him  to  feel  there  was  in  this  world  of 
enemies  and  timid,  self-interested  friends,  at  least  the 
one  person  who  understood  and  sympathized.  But  not 
a  word  had  come;  and  his  heart,  so  hard  when  it  was 

429 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

hard,  and  so  sensitive  when  it  was  touched  at  all,  was 
sore  and  bitter. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  he  and  none  other  who  ap 
peared  at  five  that  afternoon,  less  than  a  block  from 
Narcisse's  house;  and  he  wandered  in  wide  circles 
about  the  neighborhood  for  at  least  an  hour  before 
his  pride  could  shame  him  into  dragging  himself  away. 
At  three  the  next  afternoon  he  rang  Narcisse's  bell. 
The  man  servant  showed  him  into  her  small  oval  gray 
and  dull  gold  salon  which  Raphael  once  said  was  prob 
ably  the  most  perfect  room  in  the  modern  world.  Ad 
joining  it  was  a  conservatory,  the  two  rooms  being 
separated  only  by  an  alternation  of  mirrors  and  lat 
tices,  the  lattices  overrun  with  pink  rambler  in  full 
bloom — and  in  the  mirrors  and  through  the  opposite 
windows  Armstrong  saw  the  snow  falling  and  lying 
white  upon  the  trees  and  the  lawns  of  the  Park.  In 
the  center  of  the  room  was  an  open  fire,  its  flue  de 
scending  from  the  ceiling,  but  so  constructed  that  it 
and  its  oval  chimney-piece  added  to  the  effect  of  the 
room  almost  as  much  as  the  glimpses  of  the  conserva 
tory,  seen  through  the  rambler-grown  lattices.  And 
the  scent  of  growing  flowers  perfumed  the  air.  These 
surroundings,  this  sudden  summer  bursting  and  beam 
ing  through  the  snow  and  ice  of  winter,  had  their  in 
evitable  effect  upon  Armstrong.  He  was  beginning  to 
look  favorably  upon  several  possible  excuses  for  Neva. 
"  She  may  not  have  heard  of  my  troubles,"  he  reflected. 
"  She  doesn't  read  the  newspapers,  and  people  wouldn't 
talk  to  her  of  anything  concerning  me." 

She  came  in  hurriedly,  swathed  in  a  coat  of  black 
broadtail,  made  very  simply,  its  lines  following  her 
long,  slim  figure.  The  color  was  high  in  her  cheeks ; 
from  her  garments  diffused  the  freshness  of  the  win- 

430 


I   DON'T   TRUST   HIM 


ter  air.  "  I  shouldn't  have  been  out,"  she  explained, 
"  but  I  had  to  go  to  see  some  one — Mrs.  Trafford, 
who  is  ill." 

Then  he  noted  that  her  face  was  thinner  than  when 
he  last  saw  it,  that  the  look  out  of  the  eyes  was  weary. 
And  for  the  moment  he  forgot  his  bitterness  over  her 
"  utter  desertion  "  of  him  when  he  really  needed  the 
cheer  only  a  friend,  a  real  friend,  one  beyond  the  sus 
picion  of  a  possibility  of  self-interest,  can  give;  de 
serted  him  in  troubles  which  she  herself  had  edged  him 
on  to  precipitate.  "When  did  you  come?"  he  asked. 

"  Yesterday — yesterday  morning.  You  see  I  sent 
you  word  immediately." 

He  looked  ironic.  "  I  saw  in  the  newspaper  this 
morning  that  Raphael  landed  yesterday." 

"  He  dined  here  last  night,"  replied  she. 

He  turned  as  if  about  to  go.  "  I  can't  imagine 
why  you  bothered  to  send  for  me,"  he  said. 

She  showed  that  she  was  astonished  and  hurt. 
"  Horace,"  she  appealed,  "  why  do  you  say  that  ?  I 
read  about  all  those  troubles." 

"  So,  you  did  know ! "  He  gave  an  abrupt,  grim 
laugh.  "  And  as  you  were  coming  on  to  see  Raphael, 
why,  you  thought  you'd  do  an  act  of  Christian  charity. 
Well,  I  wish  I  could  oblige,  but  really,  I  don't  need 
charity." 

She  made  no  answer,  simply  sighed  and  drooped. 
When  the  country  was  ringing  with  denunciations  of 
him,  "  He  will  see  the  truth  now,"  she  had  said  to  her 
self,  "  now  that  the  whole  world  is  showing  it  to  him 
instead  of  only  one  person  and  she  a  woman."  Then, 
with  the  bursting  of  the  great  storm  over  his  single 
head,  she  dismissed  all  but  the  one  central  truth,  that 
she  loved  him,  and  came  straightway  to  New  York. 

431 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

Well,  here  they  were  face  to  face ;  and  as  she  looked 
at  him  in  his  strength  and  haughtiness,  she  saw  in  his 
face,  as  if  etched  in  steel,  inflexible  determination  to 
persist  in  the  course  that  was  making  him  an  object 
of  public  infamy,  justly,  she  had  to  admit.  "  The 
madness  for  money  and  for  crushing  down  his  fellow 
beings  has  him  fast,"  she  thought.  "  There  isn't  any 
thing  left  in  him  for  his  good  instincts  to  work  on." 
She  seated  herself  wearily. 

"  Let's  talk  no  more  about   it,"   she  said  to  him. 

"  You've  been  reading  the  papers  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes— I  read— all." 

"  It  must  have  been  painful  to  you,"  said  he  with 
stolid  sarcasm. 

She  did  not  answer.  In  this  mood  of  what  seemed 
to  her  the  most  shameless  defiance  of  all  that  a  human 
being  would  respect  if  he  had  even  a  remnant  of  self- 
respect,  he  was  almost  repellent. 

"  So,"  he  went  on,  in  that  same  stolid  way,  "  you 
sent  for  me  to  revel  in  that  self-righteousness  you 
paraded  the  last  time  I  saw  you.  Well,  it  will  chagrin 
you,  I  fear,  to  learn  that  the  scoundrel  you  tried  to 
redeem  will  escape  from  the  toils  again,  and  resume  his 
wicked  way." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go,"  she  entreated.  "  I  can't 
bear  it  to-day." 

She  was  taking  off  her  hat  now,  was  having  great 
difficulty  in  finding  its  pins ;  its  black  fur  brought  out 
all  the  beauty  of  her  bright  brown  hair.  The  grace 
ful,  fascinating  movements  of  her  head,  her  arms,  her 
fingers,  put  that  into  his  fury  which  made  it  take  the 
bit  in  its  teeth. 

"Are  you  and  Raphael  going  to  marry?"  he  de 
manded  so  roughly  that  she,  startled,  stood  straight 


I   DON'T   TRUST   HIM 


up,  facing  him.  "  Yes,  I  see  that  you  are,"  he  rushed 
on.  "  And  it  puts  me  beside  myself  with  jealousy. 
But  you  would  be  mistaken  if  you  thought  I  meant 
I  would  have  you,  even  if  I  could  get  you.  What  you 
said  the  last  time  I  saw  you,  interpreted  by  what 
you've  done  since,  has  revealed  you  to  me  as  what  I 
used  to  think  you — a  woman  incapable  of  love — not 
a  woman  at  all.  You  are  of  this  new  type — the  woman 
that  uses  her  brain.  Give  me  the  old-fashioned  kind — 
the  kind  that  loved,  without  question." 

She  blazed  out  at  him — at  his  savage,  sneering 
voice  and  eyes.  "  Without  question,"  she  retorted, 
"  and  whether  he  was  on  the  right  side  or  the  wrong. 
Loved  the  man  who  won,  so  long  as  he  won;  was 
gladly  a  mere  part  of  the  spoils  of  victory — that  was 
the  feature  of  her  the  poets  and  the  novel  writers  neg 
lect  to  mention.  But  it  was  important.  You  like  that, 
however — you  who  think  only  of  fighting,  as  you  call 
it — though  that's  rather  a  brave  name  for  the  game 
you  play,  as  you  yourself  have  described  it  to  me  and 
as  the  whole  world  now  knows  you  play  it.  You'd 
have  no  use  for  the  woman  who  really  loves,  the  woman 
who  would  be  proud  to  bear  a  man's  name  if  she 
loved  him,  though  it  were  black  with  dishonor,  provided 
he  said,  '  Help  me  make  this  name  clean  and  bright 
again.'  Why  should  not  a  woman  be  as  jealous  of 
dishonor  in  her  husband  as  he  is  of  it  in  her?" 

Narcisse  entered,  hesitated;  then,  seeing  Arm 
strong  hat  in  hand  and  apparently  going,  she  came  on. 
"  Hello,"  said  she,  shaking  hands  with  him.  She  took 
a  cigarette  from  the  big  silver  box  on  the  table,  lit 
it,  held  the  box  toward  Armstrong.  "  Smoke,  and 
cheer  up.  The  devil  is  said  to  be  dying." 

"  Thanks,  no,  I  must  be  off,"  replied  Armstrong. 
433 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

He  took  a  long  look  round  the  room,  ending  at  the 
rambler-grown  lattices.  He  bowed  to  Narcisse.  His 
eyes  rested  upon  Neva ;  but  she  was  not  looking  at  him, 
lest  love  should  win  a  shameful  victory  over  self- 
respect  and  over  her  feeling  of  what  was  the  right 
course  toward  him  if  there  was  any  meaning  in  the 
words  woman  and  wife. 

When  he  was  gone,  Narcisse  stretched  herself  out, 
extended  her  feet  toward  the  flames.  "  What  a  hand 
some,  big  man  he  is,"  said  she,  sending  up  a  great 
cloud  of  cigarette  smoke.  "  How  tremendously  a  man. 
If  he  had  some  of  Boris's  temperament,  or  Boris  some 
of  his,  either  would  be  perfect." 

A  pause,  with  both  women  looking  into  the  fire. 

"  After  you  left  us  last  night,"  Narcisse  continued, 
"  Boris  asked  me  to  marry  him." 

Neva  was  startled  out  of  her  brooding. 

"  I  refused,"  proceeded  Narcisse.  Another  si 
lence,  then,  "  You  don't  ask  why?  " 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he's  in  love  with  you.  He  told  me  so. 
He  made  quite  an  interesting  proposition.  He  sug 
gested  that,  as  we  were  both  alone  and  got  on  so  well 
together  and  worked  along  lines  that  were  sympathetic 
yet  could  not  cross  and  cause  clashes,  that — as  the 
only  way  we  could  be  friends  without  a  scandal  was 
by  marrying — why,  we  ought  to  marry." 

"  It  seems  unanswerable,"  said  Neva. 

"  If  you  had  been  married,  and  in  love  with  your 
husband,  I  think  I'd  have  accepted." 

"  What  nonsense !  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Narcisse.  "  I  don't  trust  any 
man,  least  of  all  a  Boris  Raphael;  and  I  don't  trust 
any  woman — not  even  you.  The  time  might  come  when 

434 


"I   DON'T  TRUST   HIM" 

you  would  change  your  mind.  Then,  where  should  / 
be?" 

"  I'll  not  change  my  mind." 

"  That's  beyond  your  control,"  retorted  Narcisse. 
"  But — when  you  marry,  I  may  risk  it." 

Neva's  thoughts  went  back  to  Armstrong.  Pres 
ently  she  vaguely  heard  Narcisse  saying,  "  I've  got 
to  put  up  a  stiffer  fight  against  this  loneliness.  Do 
you  ever  think  of  suicide  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  any  sane  person  ever  does." 

"  But  who  is  sane  ?  Solitary  confinement  will  up 
set  the  steadiest  brain."  She  gazed  strangely  at  Neva. 
"  Look  out,  my  dear.  Don't  you  act  so  that  you'll 
sentence  yourself  to  a  life  of  solitary  confinement. 
Some  people  are  lucky  enough  not  to  be  discriminating. 
They  can  be  just  as  happy  with  imitation  friendship 
and  paste  love  as  if  they  had  the  real  thing.  But  not 
you — or  I." 

"  There's  worse  than  being  alone,"  said  Neva. 

Another  silence;  then  Narcisse,  still  in  the  same 
train  of  thought,  went  on,  "  Several  years  ago  we  made 
a  house  for  a  couple  up  on  the  West  Side — a  good- 
looking  young  husband  and  wife  devoted  to  each  other 
and  to  their  two  little  children.  He  lavished  every 
thing  on  her.  I  got  to  know  her  pretty  well.  She  was 
an  intelligent  woman — witty,  with  the  streak  of  melan 
choly  that  always  goes  with  wit  and  the  other  keen 
sensibilities.  I  soon  saw  she  was  more  than  unhappy, 
that  she  was  wretched.  I  couldn't  understand  it.  A 
year  or  so  passed,  and  the  husband  was  arrested,  sent 
to  the  '  pen  ' — he  made  his  money  at  a  disreputable 
business.  Then  I  understood.  Another  year  or  so, 
and  I  met  her  in  Twenty-third  Street.  She  was  radiant 
— I  never  saw  such  a  change.  '  My  husband  is  to  be 

435 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

released  next  month,'  said  she,  quite  simply,  like  a 
natural  human  being  who  assumes  that  everybody 
understands  and  sympathizes.  '  And,'  she  went  on, 
6  he  has  made  up  his  mind  to  live  straight.  We're 
going  away,  and  we'll  take  a  nice,  new  name,  and  be 
happy.'"  " 

Neva  had  so  changed  her  position  that  Narcisse 
could  not  see  her  slow,  hot  tears  that  are  the  sweat  of 
a  heart  in  torment.  To  Narcisse,  the  reason  for  that 
wife's  wretchedness  was  an  ever-present  terror  lest  the 
husband  should  be  exposed.  But  Neva,  more  acutely 
sensitive,  or  perhaps,  because  of  what  she  had  passed 
through,  saw,  or  fancied  she  saw,  a  deeper  cause — be 
neath  material  terror  of  "  appearances  "  the  horror  of 
watching  the  manhood  she  loved  shrivel  and  blacken, 
the  horror  of  knowing  that  the  lover  who  lay  in  her 
arms  would  rise  up  and  go  forth  to  prey,  a  crawling, 
stealthy  beast. 

To  understand  a  human  being  at  all  in  any  of  his 
or  her  aspects,  however  far  removed  from  the  appar 
ently  material,  it  is  necessary  to  understand  how  that 
man  or  woman  comes  by  the  necessities  of  life — food, 
clothing,  shelter.  To  study  human  nature  either  in 
the  broad  or  in  detail,  leaving  those  matters  out  of 
account,  is  as  if  an  anatomist  were  to  try  to  under 
stand  the  human  body,  having  first  taken  away  the 
vital  organs  and  the  arteries  and  veins.  It  is  the 
method  of  the  man's  income  that  determines  the  man; 
and  his  paradings  and  posings,  his  loves,  hatreds,  gen 
erosities,  meannesses,  all  are  either  unimportant  or  are 
but  the  surface  signs  of  the  deep,  the  real  emotions 
that  constitute  the  vital  nucleus  of  the  real  man.  In 
the  material  relations  of  a  man  or  a  woman,  in  the 
material  relations  of  husband  and  wife,  of  parents  and 

436 


I   DON'T   TRUST   HIM 


children,  lie  the  ultimate,  the  true  explanations  of  hu 
man  conduct.  This  has  always  been  so,  in  all  ages 
and  classes;  and  it  will  be  so  until  the  chief  concern 
of  the  human  animal,  and  therefore  its  chief  compell 
ing  motive,  ceases  to  be  the  pursuit  of  the  necessities 
and  luxuries  that  enable  it  to  live  from  day  to  day  and 
that  safeguard  it  in  old  age.  The  filling  and  empty 
ing  and  filling  again  of  the  purse  perform  toward  the 
mental  and  moral  life  a  function  as  vital  as  the  filling 
and  emptying  and  refilling  of  heart  or  lungs  performs 
in  the  life  of  the  body. 

Narcisse  suspected  Neva  had  turned  away  to  hide 
some  sad  heart  secret ;  but  it  did  not  occur  to  her 
to  seek  a  clew  to  it  in  the  story  she  had  told.  She 
had  never  taken  into  account,  in  her  estimate  of 
Armstrong,  his  life  downtown — the  foundations  and 
framework  of  his  whole  being.  This  though,  under  her 
very  eyes,  to  the  torture  of  her  loving  heart,  just  those 
"  merely  material  "  considerations  had  determined  her 
brother's  downfall,  while  her  own  refusal  of  whatever 
had  not  been  earned  in  honor  and  with  full  measure  of 
service  rendered  had  determined  her  salvation. 

In  the  "Arabian  Nights  "  there  is  the  story  of  a 
man  who  marries  a  woman,  beautiful  as  she  in  Solo 
mon's  Song.  He  is  happy  in  his  love  for  her  and  her 
love  for  him  until  he  wakens  one  night,  as  she  is 
stealing  from  his  side.  He  follows;  she  joins  a  ghoul 
at  a  ghoul's  orgy  in  a  graveyard.  Next  morning — 
there  she  lies  by  his  side,  in  stainless  beauty.  Since 
her  father's  death,  not  even  when  Armstrong  was  be 
fore  Neva  and  his  magnetism  was  exerting  its  full 
power  over  her,  not  even  then  could  she  quite  forget 
the  other  Armstrong  whom  she  had  surprised  at  his 
"  business."  She  could  no  longer  think  of  that  "  busi- 

437 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

ness  "  merely  as  "  doing  what  everybody  has  to  do, 
to  get  on."  She  had  seen  what  "  finance  "  meant ;  she 
could  not  picture  Armstrong  without  the  stains  of  the 
ghoul  orgy  upon  him. 

"  And  now,"  she  thought  despairingly,  "  he  has 
broken  finally  and  altogether  with  honor  and  self- 
respect  ;  has  flung  me  out  of  his  life — forever ! " 

That  night  Narcisse  took  her  to  a  concert  at  the 
Metropolitan.  Her  mind  was  full  of  the  one  thought, 
the  one  hatred  and  horror,  and  she  could  not  endure 
the  spectacle.  The  music  struck  upon  her  morbid 
senses  like  the  wailing  and  moaning  of  the  poverty  and 
suffering  of  millions  that  had  been  created  to  enable 
those  smiling,  flashing  hundreds  to  assemble  in  splen 
dor.  "  I  must  go !  "  she  exclaimed  at  the  first  inter 
mission.  "  I  can  think  only  of  those  jewels  and 
dresses,  this  shameless  flaunting  of  stolen  goods — 
bread  and  meat  snatched  from  the  poor.  You  know 
these  women  round  us  in  the  boxes.  You  know  whose 
wives  and  daughters  they  are.  Where  did  the  money 
come  from  ?  "  She  was  talking  rapidly,  her  eyes  shin 
ing,  her  voice  quivering.  "  Do  you  see  the  Atwaters 
there  with  Lona  Trafford  in  their  box?  Do  you  know 
that  Atwater  just  robbed  a  hundred  thousand  more 
people  of  their  savings  by  lying  about  an  issue  of 
bonds?  Do  you  know  that  Trafford  steals  outright 
one-third  of  every  dollar  the  poor  people,  the  day 
laborers,  intrust  to  him  as  insurance  for  their  old  age 
and  for  their  orphans?  Do  you  know  that  Langdon 
there  robs  a  million  farmers  of  their  earnings  and 
drives  them  to  the  mortgage  and  the  tax  sale  and 
pauperism  and  squalor — all  so  that  the  Langdon s  may 
have  palaces  and  carriages  and  the  means  to  degrade 

438 


I   DON'T   TRUST   HIM 


thousands  into  dependence  and  to  steal  more  and  more 
money  from  more  and  more  people  ?  " 

Narcisse's  eyes  traveled  slowly  round  the  circle, 
then  rested  in  wonder  on  Neva.  "  What  set  you  to 
thinking  of  these  things?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  always  sets  a  woman  to  thinking  ?  " 

WThen  they  reached  home,  Narcisse  broke  the  silence 
to  say,  "  After  all,  it's  nobody's  fault.  It's  a  system 
and  they're  the  victims  of  it." 

"  Because  one  has  the  chance  to  steal — that's  no 
excuse  for  his  stealing,"  replied  Neva,  with  a  certain 
sternness  in  her  face  that  curiously  reminded  Nar 
cisse  of  Armstrong.  "  Nor  is  it  any  excuse  that  every 
one  is  doing  it,  and  so  making  it  respectable.  I'm 
going  back  home — back  where  at  least  I  shan't  be 
tormented  by  seeing  these  things  with  my  very  eyes." 

On  impulse,  perhaps  tinged  with  selfishness,  Nar 
cisse  exclaimed,  "  Neva,  why  don't  you  marry  Arm 
strong?" 

"  Because  I  don't  trust  him,"  replied  she.  "  One 
may  love  without  trust,  but  not  marry." 

"  Yet,"  said  Narcisse,  "  I'd  marry  Boris,  though 
I  never  could  trust  him — never !  " 

"  If  you  had  been  married,  you  wouldn't  do  it," 
replied  Neva.  Then,  "  But  every  case  is  individual, 
and  everyone  must  judge  for  himself." 

"  You  know  best — about  Armstrong." 

"  I  should  say  I  did !  "  exclaimed  Neva  bitterly. 
"  There's  no  excuse  for  my  folly — none !  " 


439 


XXXII 

ARMSTRONG   ASKS  A  FAVOR 

NEVA,  arranging  to  go  West  on  the  afternoon 
express,  was  stopped  by  a  note  from  Armstrong: 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  to  my  office  at  eleven  to 
morrow.  I  beg  you  not  to  refuse  this,  the  greatest 
favor,  except  one,  that  I  have  ever  asked." 

At  eleven  the  next  morning  she  entered  the  ante 
room  to  his  office.  He  and  his  secretary  were  alone 
there,  he  walking  up  and  down  with  a  nervousness 
Morton  had  never  seen  in  him.  At  sight  of  her,  his 
manner  abruptly  changed.  "  I  was  afraid  something 
would  happen  to  prevent  your  coming,"  he  said  as 
they  shook  hands.  He  avoided  her  glance.  "  Thank 
you.  Thank  you."  And  he  took  her  into  his  inner 
office.  "  I  have  an  engagement — a  meeting  that  will 
keep  me  a  few  minutes,"  he  went  on.  "  It's  only  in 
the  next  room  here." 

"  Don't  hurry  on  my  account,"  said  she. 

"  I'll  just  put  you  at  this  desk  here,"  he  continued, 
with  a  curious  elaborateness  of  manner.  "  There  are 
the  morning's  papers — and  some  magazines.  I  shall 
be  back — as  soon  as  possible.  You  are  sure  you  don't 
mind?" 

"  Indeed,  no,"  she  replied,  seating  herself.  "  This 
is  most  comfortable." 

There    were    sounds    of    several    persons    entering 
440 


ARMSTRONG   ASKS   A    FAVOR 

the  adjoining  room.  "I'll  go  now,"  said  he.  "The 
sooner  I  go,  the  sooner  I  shall  be  free.  You  will 
wait?" 

"  Here,"  she  assured  him,  wondering  that  he  would 
not  let  his  eyes  meet  hers  even  for  an  instant. 

He  went  into  the  next  room,  leaving  the  door  ajar, 
but  not  widely  enough  for  her  to  see  or  to  be  seen. 
She  took  up  a  magazine,  began  a  story.  The  sound 
of  the  voices  disturbed  her.  She  heard  enough  to 
gather  that  some  kind  of  business  meeting  was  going 
on,  resumed  the  story.  Suddenly  she  heard  Arm 
strong's  voice.  She  listened.  He,  all  of  them,  were 
so  near  that  she  could  hear  every  word. 

"  You  will  probably  be  surprised  to  learn,  gentle 
men,"  he  was  saying,  loudly,  clearly,  "  that  I  have  been 
impatiently  awaiting  your  coming.  And  now  that  you 
are  here,  I  shall  not  only  give  you  every  opportunity 
to  examine  the  affairs  of  the  O.  A.  D.,  but  I  shall 
insist  upon  your  taking  advantage  of  it  to  the  full 
est.  I  look  to  you,  gentlemen,  to  end  the  campaign 
of  calumny  against  your  association  and  its  manage 
ment." 

Neva's  magazine  had  dropped  into  her  lap.  She 
knew  now  why  he  had  asked  her  to  come.  If  only 
she  could  see !  But  no — that  was  impossible ;  she  must 
be  content  with  hearing.  She  sat  motionless,  eager, 
yet  in  dread  too;  for  she  knew  that  Armstrong  had 
summoned  her  to  his  trial,  that  she  was  to  hear  with 
her  own  ears  the  truth,  the  whole  truth  about  him. 
The  truth!  Would  it  seem  to  her  as  it  evidently 
seemed  to  him  ?  No  matter ;  she  believed  in  him 
again.  "  At  least,"  she  said,  "  he  thinks  he's  right, 
and  the  best  man  can  get  no  nearer  right  than 
that." 

29  441 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

If  she  could  have  looked  into  the  next  room,  she 
would  have  seen  two  large  tables,  men  grouped  about 
each.  At  one  were  Armstrong  and  the  five  committee- 
men,  and  the  lawyer,  Drew,  whom  they  had  brought 
with  them  from  Chicago  to  conduct  the  examination 
and  cross-examinations.  At  the  other  sat  a  dozen  re 
porters  from  the  newspapers. 

"  I  have  told  the  gentlemen  of  the  press,"  said 
Armstrong,  "  that  my  impression  was  that  the  sessions 
of  the  committee  were  to  be  public.  It  is,  of  course, 
for  you  to  decide." 

Drew  rubbed  his  long  lean  jaw  reflectively.  "  I  see, 
Mr.  Armstrong,"  said  he,  in  a  slow,  bantering  tone, 
"  that  you  are  disposed  to  assist  us  to  the  extent  of 
taking  charge  of  the  investigation.  Now,  I  came 
with  the  notion  that  7  was  to  do  that,  to  whatever  ex 
tent  the  committee  needed  leading." 

66  Then  you  do  not  wish  the  investigation  to  be 
public?  "  said  Armstrong. 

"  Public,  yes,"  replied  Drew.  "  But  I  doubt  if  we 
can  conduct  it  so  thoroughly  or  so  calmly,  if  our  every 
move  is  made  under  the  limelight." 

"  Before  we  go  any  further,"  said  Armstrong, 
"  there  is  a  matter  I  wish  to  bring  to  the  attention  of 
the  committee,  which  it  might,  perhaps,  seem  better  to 
you  to  keep  from  the  press.  If  so,  will  you  ask  the 
reporters  to  retire  for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

"  Now,  there9 s  just  the  kind  of  matter  I  think  the 
press  ought  to  hear,"  said  Drew.  "  We  haven't  any 
secrets,  Mr.  Armstrong." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Armstrong.  "  The  matter  is 
this:  The  campaign  against  the  O.  A.  D.  and  against 
me  was  instigated  and  has  been  kept  up  by  Mr.  At- 
water  and  several  of  his  associates,  owners  and  ex- 


ARMSTRONG   ASKS   A    FAVOR 

ploiters  of  our  rivals  in  the  insurance  business.  In 
view  of  that  fact,  I  think  the  committee  will  see  the 
gross  impropriety,  the  danger,  the  disaster,  I  may  say, 
of  having  as  its  counsel,  as  its  guide,  one  of  Mr. 
Atwater's  personal  lawyers  ?  " 

"That's  a  lie,"  drawled  Drew. 

Armstrong  did  not  change  countenance.  He 
rested  his  gaze  calmly  on  the  lawyer.  "  Where  did  you 
dine  last  night,  Mr.  Drew?  "  he  asked. 

"  This  is  the  most  impertinent  performance  I  was 
ever  the  amused  victim  of,"  said  Drew.  "  You  are  on 
trial  here,  sir,  not  I.  Of  course,  I  shall  not  answer 
your  questions." 

Farthest  from  Drew  and  facing  him  sat  the  chair 
man  of  the  committee,  its  youngest  member,  Roberts 
of  Denver — a  slender,  tall  man,  with  sinews  like  steel 
wires  enwrapping  his  bones,  and  nothing  else  beneath 
a  skin  tanned  by  the  sun  into  leather.  He  had  eyes 
that  suggested  the  full-end  view  of  the  barrel  of  a 
cocked  revolver.  "  Speak  your  questions  to  me,  Mr. 
Armstrong,"  now  said  this  quiet,  dry,  dangerous- 
looking  person,  "  and  I'll  put  'em  to  our  counsel. 
Where  did  you  dine  last  night,  Mr.  Drew?  " 

Drew  glanced  into  those  eyes  and  glanced  away. 
"  It  is  evidently  Mr.  Armstrong's  intention  to  foment 
dissension  in  the  committee,"  said  he.  "  I  trust  you 
gentlemen  will  not  fall  headlong  into  his  trap." 

"  Why  do  you  object  to  telling  us  where  you  dined 
last  night  ?  "  asked  Roberts. 

"  I  can  see  no  relevancy  to  our  mission  in  the 
fact  that  I  dined  with  my  old  friend,  Judge  Bim- 
berger." 

"  Ask  him  how  long  he  has  known  Judge  Bim- 
berger,"  said  Armstrong. 

443 


LIGHT-FIN GEEED    GENTRY 

"  I  have  known  him  for  years,"  said  Drew.  "  But 
I  have  not  seen  much  of  him  lately." 

"  Then,  ask  him,"  said  Armstrong  to  Roberts, 
"  why  it  was  necessary  for  Mr.  Atwater  to  give  Bim- 
berger  a  letter  of  introduction  to  him,  a  letter  which 
the  judge  sent  up  with  his  card  at  the  Manhattan 
Hotel  at  four  o'clock  yesterday  afternoon." 

Drew  smiled  contemptuously,  without  looking  at 
either  Armstrong  or  the  chairman.  "  It  was  not  a 
letter  of  introduction.  It  was  a  friendly  note  Mr. 
Atwater  asked  the  judge  to  deliver." 

"  It  had  '  Introducing  Judge  Bimberger '  on  the 
envelope,"  said  Armstrong.  "  There  it  is."  And  he 
tossed  an  envelope  on  the  table. 

Drew  sprang  to  his  feet,  sank  back  with  a  ghastly 
grin.  "You  see,  we  have  a  very  clever  man  to  deal 
with,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  a  man  who  stops  at 
nothing,  and  is  never  so  at  ease  as  when  he  is  stoop- 
ing." 

"  Ask  him,"  pursued  Armstrong  tranquilly,  "  how 
much  he  made  in  counsel  fees  from  Atwater,  from  the 
Universal  Life,  from  the  Hearth  and  Home  Defender, 
last  year." 

"  I  am  counsel  to  a  great  many  men  and  corpora 
tions,"  cried  Drew,  ruffled.  "  You  will  not  find  a 
lawyer  of  my  standing  who  has  not  practically  all  the 
conspicuous  interests  as  his  clients." 

"  Probably  not,"  said  Roberts  dryly.  "  That's  the 
hell  of  it  for  us  common  folks." 

"  Ask  him,"  said  Armstrong,  "  what  arrangements 
he  made  with  Bimberger  to  pervert  the  investigation, 
to  make  it  simply  a  slaughter  of  its  present  manage 
ment,  to " 

"  Gentlemen,  I  appeal  to  you !  "  exclaimed  Drew 
444 


ARMSTRONG   ASKS   A    FAFOR 

with  great  dignity.  "  I  did  not  come  here  to  be  in 
sulted.  I  have  too  high  a  position  at  the  bar  to  be 
brought  into  question.  I  protest.  I  demand  that  this 
cease." 

"  Ask  him,"  said  Armstrong,  "  what  he  and  Bim- 
berger  and  Atwater  and  Langdon  talked  about  at  the 
dinner  last  night." 

"  You  have  heard  my  protest,  gentlemen,"  said 
Drew  coldly.  "  I  am  awaiting  your  answer." 

A  silence  of  perhaps  twenty  seconds  that  seemed 
as  many  minutes.  Then  Roberts  spoke :  "  Well,  Mr. 
Drew,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  reporters  are 
present " 

Involuntarily  Drew  wheeled  toward  the  reporters' 
table,  wild  terror  in  his  eyes.  He  had  forgotten  that 
the  press  was  there;  all  in  a  rush,  he  realized  what 
those  silent,  almost  effaced  dozen  young  men  meant — 
the  giant  of  the  brazen  lungs  who  would  in  a  few  brief 
hours  be  shrieking  into  every  ear,  from  ocean  to 
ocean,  the  damning  insinuations  of  Armstrong.  He 
tried  to  speak,  but  only  a  rattling  sound  issued  from 
his  throat. 

"  As  the  reporters  are  present,"  Roberts  went  on 
pitilessly — he  had  seen  too  much  of  the  tragic  side 
of  life  in  his  years  as  Indian  fighter  and  cowboy  to 
be  moved  simply  by  tragedy  without  regard  to  its 
cause — "  I  think,  and  I  believe  the  rest  of  the  com 
mittee  think,  that  you  will  have  to  answer  Mr.  Arm 
strong's  grave  charges." 

Drew  collected  himself.  "  I  doubt  if  a  reputable 
counsel  has  ever  been  subjected  to  such  indignities," 
said  he  in  his  slow,  dignified  way.  "  I  not  only  de 
cline  to  enter  into  a  degrading  controversy,  I  also 
decline  to  serve  longer  as  counsel  to  a  committee  which 

445 


LIGHT-FINGERED   GENTRY 

has  so  frankly  put  itself  in  a  position  to  have  its  work 
discredited  from  the  outset." 

"  Then  you  admit,"  said  Roberts,  "  that  you  have 
entered  into  improper  negotiations  with  parties  in 
terested  to  queer  this  investigation  ?  " 

"  Such  a   charge   is  preposterous,"   replied  Drew. 

"  You  admit  that  you  deceived  us  a  few  moments 
ago  as  to  your  relations  with  this  judge?  "  pursued 
Roberts. 

Drew  made  no  answer.  He  was  calmly  gathering 
together  his  papers. 

"  I  suggest  that  some  one  move  that  Mr.  Drew's 
resignation  be  not  accepted,  but  that  he  be  dismissed." 

"  I  so  move,"  said  Reed,  the  attorney-general  of 
Iowa. 

"  Second,"  said  Bissell,  a  San  Franciscan. 

The  motion  was  carried,  as  Drew,  head  in  the  air, 
and  features  inscrutably  calm  behind  his  dark,  rough 
skin,  marched  from  the  room,  followed  by  several  of 
the  reporters. 

"  As  there  are  two  lawyers  on  the  committee,"  said 
Roberts,  "  it  seems  to  me  we  had  better  make  no  more 
experiments  with  outside  counsel." 

The  others  murmured  assent.  "  Let  Mr.  Reed 
do  the  questioning,"  suggested  Mulholland.  It  was 
agreed,  and  Reed  took  the  chair  which  Drew  had  oc 
cupied,  as  it  was  conveniently  opposite  to  that  in  which 
Armstrong  was  seated.  The  reporters  who  had  pur 
sued  Drew  now  returned;  one  of  them  said  in  an 
audible  undertone  to  his  fellow — "  He  wouldn't  talk 
— not  a  word,"  and  they  all  laughed. 

"  Now — Mr.  Armstrong,"  said  Reed,  in  a  sharp, 
businesslike  voice. 

"  I  was  summoned,"  began  Armstrong,  "  as  the 
446 


ARMSTRONG   ASKS   A    FAVOR 

first  witness,  I  assume.     I  should  like  to  preface  my 
examination  with  a  brief  statement." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Reed.  Roberts  nodded.  He  had 
his  pistol-barrel  eyes  trained  upon  Armstrong.  It  was 
evident  that  Armstrong's  exposure  of  Drew,  far  from 
lessening  Roberts's  conviction  that  he  was  a  bandit, 
had  strengthened  it,  had  made  him  feel  that  here  was 
an  even  wilier,  more  resourceful,  more  dangerous  man 
than  he  had  anticipated. 

"  For  the  past  year  and  a  half,  gentlemen,"  said 
Armstrong,  "  I  have  been  engaged  in  rooting  out  a 
system  of  graft  which  had  so  infected  the  O.  A.  D. 
that  it  had  ceased  to  be  an  insurance  company  and  had 
become,  like  most  of  our  great  corporations,  a  device 
for  enabling  a  few  insiders  to  gather  in  the  money 
of  millions  of  people,  to  keep  permanently  a  large 
part  of  it,  to  take  that  part  which  could  not  be  ap 
propriated  and  use  it  in  gambling  operations  in  which 
the  gamblers  got  most  of  the  profits  and  the  people 
whose  money  supplied  the  stakes  bore  all  the  losses.  As 
the  inevitable  result  of  my  effort  to  snatch  the  O.  A.  D. 
from  these  parasites  and  dependents,  who  filled  all  the 
positions,  high  and  low,  far  and  near,  there  has  been 
a  determined  and  exceedingly  plausible  campaign  to 
oust  me.  Latterly,  instead  of  fighting  these  plotters 
and  those  whom  they  misled,  I  have  been  silent,  have 
awaited  this  moment — when  a  committee  of  the  policy 
holders  would  appear.  Naturally,  I  took  every  pre 
caution  to  prevent  that  committee  from  becoming  the 
unconscious  tool  of  the  enemies  of  the  O.  A.  D." 

Armstrong's  eyes  now  rested  upon  the  fifth  mem 
ber  of  the  committee,  De  Brett,  of  Ohio.  De  Brett's 
eyes  slowly  lowered  until  they  were  studying  the  dark 
leather  veneer  of  the  top  of  the  table. 

447 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  I  think,"  continued  Armstrong,  "  that  I  have 
gone  far  enough  in  protecting  the  O.  A.  D.  and  my 
self  and  my  staff  which  has  aided  me  in  the  big  task 
of  expelling  the  grafters.  I  have  here " 

Armstrong  lifted  a  large  bundle  of  typewritten 
manuscript  and  let  it  fall  with  a  slight  crash.  De 
Brett  jumped. 

"  I  have  here,"  said  Armstrong,  "  a  complete  ac 
count  of  my  stewardship." 

De  Brett  drew  a  cautious  but  profound  breath  of 
relief. 

"  It  shows  who  have  been  dismissed,  why  they  were 
dismissed,  each  man  accounted  for  in  detail;  what  ex 
travagances  I  found,  how  I  have  cut  them  off;  the 
contrast  of  the  published  and  the  actual  conditions 
of  the  company  when  I  became  its  president,  the  pres 
ent  condition — which  I  may  say  is  flourishing,  with 
the  expenses  vastly  cut  down  and  the  profits  for  the 
policy'  holders  vastly  increased.  As  soon  as  your 
committee  shall  have  vindicated  the  management,  the 
O.  A.  D.  will  start  upon  a  new  era  of  prosperity  and 
will  soon  distance,  if  not  completely  put  out  of 
4  business,  its  rivals,  loaded  down,  as  they  are,  with 
grafters." 

Armstrong  took  up  the  bundle  of  typewriting  and 
handed  it  to  Reed.  "  Before  you  give  that  document 
to  the  press,"  he  went  on,  "  I  want  to  make  one  sugges 
tion.  The  men  who  have  been  feeding  on  the  O.  A.  D. 
are,  of  course,  personally  responsible — but  only  in 
a  sense.  They  are,  rather,  the  product  of  a  system. 
No  law,  no  safeguards  will  ever  be  devised  for  pro 
tecting  a  man  in  the  possession  of  anything  which  he 
himself  neglects  and  leaves  open  as  a  temptation  to 
the  appetites  of  the  less  scrupulous  of  his  fellow  men. 

448 


ARMSTRONG   ASKS   A    FAVOR 

These  ravagers  of  your  property,  of  our  property, 
are  like  a  swarm  of  locusts.  They  came;  they  found 
the  fields  green  and  unprotected;  they  ate.  They  have 
passed  on.  They  are  simply  one  of  a  myriad  of  similar 
swarms.  If  we  leave  our  property  unguarded  again, 
they  will  return.  If  we  guard  it,  they  will  never 
bother  us  again.  The  question  is  whether  we — you — 
would  or  would  not  do  well  to  publish  the  names  and 
the  records  of  these  men.  Will  it  do  any  good  be 
yond  supplying  the  newspapers  with  sensations  for  a 
few  days?  Will  the  good  be  overbalanced  by  the 
harm,  by  the — if  I  may  say  so — the  injustice?  For 
is  it  not  unjust  to  single  out  these  few  hundreds  of 
men,  themselves  the  victims  of  a  system,  many  of  them 
the  unconscious  victims — to  single  them  out,  when,  all 
over  the  land,  wherever  there  is  a  great  unguarded 
property,  their  like  and  worse  go  unscathed,  and  will 
be  free  to  swell  the  chorus  of  more  or  less  hypocritical 
denunciations  of  them?  " 

"  We  shall  let  no  guilty  man  escape,"  said  Roberts, 
eying  Armstrong  sternly,  "  not  even  you,  Mr.  Arm 
strong,  if  we  find  you  guilty." 

"  If  there  is  any  member  of  the  committee  who 
can,  after  searching  his  own  life,  find  no  time  when 
he  has  directly  or  indirectly  grafted  or  aided  and 
abetted  graft  or  profits  by  grafting — or  spared  rela 
tives  or  friends  when  he  caught  them  in  the  devious 
but  always  more  or  less  respectable  ways  of  the 
grafter — if  there  is  such  a  one,  then — "  Armstrong 
smiled — "  I  withdraw  my  suggestion." 

"  We  must  recover  what  has  been  stolen !  We  must 
send  the  thieves  to  the  penitentiary !  "  exclaimed  Mul- 
holland. 

"  But  you  can  do  neither,"  said  Armstrong. 
44.9 


LIGHT-FINGERED    GENTRY 

"  And  why  not  ?  "   demanded  Reed. 

"  Because  they  have  too  many  powerful  friends. 
They  own  the  departments  of  justice  here  and  at 
Washington.  We  should  only  waste  the  money  of  the 
O.  A.  D.,  send  good  money  after  bad.  As  you  will 
see  in  my  statement  there,  I  have  recovered  several 
millions.  That  is  all  we  shall  ever  get  back.  How 
ever,  I  shall  say  no  more.  I  am  ready  to  answer  any 
questions.  My  staff  is  ready.  The  books  are  all  at 
your  disposal." 

"  I  think  we  had  better  adjourn  now,"  said  Reed, 
"  and  examine  the  papers  Mr.  Armstrong  has  sub 
mitted — adjourn,  say  until  Thursday  morning.  And 
in  the  meanwhile,  we  will  hold  the  document,  if  the 
rest  of  the  committee  please,  and  not  give  it  to  the 
press.  We  must  not  give  out  anything  that  has  not 
been  absolutely  verified." 

"  I  can't  offer  the  committee  lunch  here,"  said 
Armstrong.  "  We  have  cut  off  the  lunch  account  of 
the  O.  A.  D. — a  saving  of  forty  thousand  a  year 
toward  helping  the  policy  holders  buy  their  lunches." 
And  he  bowed  to  the  chairman,  and  withdrew  by  the 
door  by  which  he  had  entered. 

"  A  smooth  citizen,"  said  Roberts,  when  the  re 
porters  were  gone. 

"  Very,"  said  De  Brett,  at  whom  he  was  look 
ing. 

"  He's  that — and  more,"  said  Mulholland.  "  He's 
an  honest  man." 

"  We  must  be  careful  about  hasty  conclusions," 
replied  Roberts. 

"  He  is  probably  laughing  at  us,  even  now,"  said 
De  Brett. 

Roberts  turned  the  pistol-barrel  upon  him  again. 
450 


ASM  STRONG   ASKS   A    FAVOR 

"  We've  got  to  be  a  damned  sight  more  careful  about 
prejudice  against  him,"  said  he. 

And  De  Brett  hastily  and  eagerly  assented. 

In  the  next  room  the  man  who  "  is  probably  laugh 
ing  at  us,  even  now  "  was  standing  before  a  woman 
who  could  not  lift  her  burning  face  to  meet  his  gaze. 
But  he,  looking  long  at  her,  thought  he  saw  that  there 
was  no  hope  for  him,  and  shut  himself  in  behind  his 
stolidity  of  the  Indian  and  the  pioneer. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  believe.  I  was  afraid 
it'd  be  so.  Why  should  you?  I  hardly  believe  in 
myself  as  yet."  And  he  turned  to  stare  out  of  the 
window. 

She  came  hesitatingly,  slid  her  arm  timidly  through 
his.  She  entreated  softly,  earnestly,  "  Forgive  me, 
Horace."  Then  in  response  to  his  quick  glance,  "  For 
give  me,  I  won't  again,  ever." 

"  Oh,"  was  all  he  said.  But  his  tone  was  like  the 
arm  he  put  round  her  shoulders  to  draw  her  close 
against  his  broad  chest,  the  rampart  of  a  dauntless 
soul.  And  as  with  one  pair  of  eyes,  not  his  nor  hers, 
but  theirs,  they  gazed  serenely  down  upon  the  vast 
panorama  of  snow-draped  skyscrapers,  plumed  like 
volcanoes  and  lifting  grandly  in  the  sparkling  air. 


THE    END 


451  CD 


By  DAVID  GRAHAM  PHILLIPS. 
The  Second  Generation. 

Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  Second  Generation  "  is  a  double-decked  romance 
in  one  volume,  telling  the  two  love-stories  of  a  young 
American  and  his  sister,  reared  in  luxury  and  suddenly  left 
without  means  by  their  father,  who  felt  that  money  was 
proving  their  ruination  and  disinherited  them  for  their  own 
sakes.  Their  struggle  for  life,  love  and  happiness  makes  a 
powerful  love-story  of  the  middle  West. 

"  The  book  equals  the  best  of  the  great  story  tellers  of  all 
time." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

" '  The  Second  Generation,'  by  David  Graham  Phillips,  is  not 
only  the  most  important  novel  of  the  new  year,  but  it  is  one  of  the 
most  important  ones  of  a  number  of  years  past." 

— Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"A  thoroughly  American  book  is  'The  Second  Generation.' 
.  .  .  The  characters  are  drawn  with  force  and  discrimination." 

— St.  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 

"Mr.  Phillips'  book  is  thoughtful,  well  conceived,  admirably 
written  and  intensely  interesting.  The  story  'works  out'  well, 
and  though  it  is  made  to  sustain  the  theory  of  the  writer  it  does 
so  in  a  very  natural  and  stimulating  manner.  In  the  writing  of  the 
'  problem  novel '  Mr.  Phillips  has  won  a  foremost  place  among  our 
younger  American  authors." — Boston  Herald. 

" '  The  Second  Generation  '  promises  to  become  one  of  the  nota 
ble  novels  of  the  year.  It  will  be  read  and  discussed  while  a  less 
vigorous  novel  will  be  forgotten  within  a  week." 

— Springfield  Union. 

"  David  Graham  Phillips  has  a  way,  a  most  clever  and  convinc 
ing  way,  of  cutting  through  the  veneer  of  snobbishness  and  bringing 
real  men  and  women  to  the  surface.  He  strikes  at  shams,  yet  has 
a  wholesome  belief  in  the  people  behind  them,  and  he  forces  them 
to  justify  his  good  opinions." — Kansas  City  Times. 

D.     APPLETON    AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK 


THE  LEADING  NOVEL  OF  TODAY. 


The  Fighting  Chance. 

By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS.  Illustrated  by  A.  B. 
Wenzell.  121110.  Ornamental  Cloth,  $1.50. 

In  "The  Fighting  Chance"  Mr.  Chambers  has  taken 
for  his  hero,  a  young  fellow  who  has  inherited  with  his 
wealth  a  craving  for  liquor.  The  heroine  has  inherited  a 
certain  rebelliousness  and  dangerous  caprice.  The  two, 
meeting  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  fight  out  their  battles,  two 
weaknesses  joined  with  love  to  make  a  strength.  It  is  re 
freshing  to  find  a  story  about  the  rich  in  which  all  the 
women  are  not  sawdust  at  heart,  nor  all  the  men  satyrs. 
The  rich  have  their  longings,  their  ideals,  their  regrets, 
as  well  as  the  poor ;  they  have  their  struggles  and  inherited 
evils  to  combat.  It  is  a  big  subject,  painted  with  a  big 
brush  and  a  big  heart. 

"  After  '  The  House  of  Mirth '  a  New  York  society  novel 
has  to  be  very  good  not  to  suffer  fearfully  by  comparison. 
*  The  Fighting  Chance '  is  very  good  and  it  does  not 
suffer." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

"There  is  no  more  adorable  person  in  recent  fiction 
than  Sylvia  Landis." — New  York  Evening  Sun. 

"  Drawn  with  a  master  hand." — Toledo  Blade. 

"An  absorbing  tale  which  claims  the  reader's  interest 
to  the  end."— Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  Mr.  Chambers  has  written  many  brilliant  stories,  but 
this  is  his  masterpiece." — Pittsburg  Chronicle  Telegraph. 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


A  MASTERPIECE  OF  FICTION. 

The  Guarded  Flame. 

By  W.   B.  MAXWELL,  Author  of  "Vivien." 

Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  '  The  Guarded  Flame,  by  W.  B.  Maxwell,  is  a  booK 
to  challenge  the  attention  of  the  reading  public  as  a  re 
markable  study  of  moral  law  and  its  infraction.  Mr.  Max 
well  is  the  son  of  Miss  M.  E.  Braddon  (Mrs.  John  Maxwell), 
whose  novels  were  famous  a  generation  ago,  and  his  first 
book  *  Vivien'  made  the  English  critics  herald  him  as  a 
new  force  in  the  world  of  letters.  '  The  Guarded  Flame ' 
is  an  even  more  astonishing  production,  a  big  book  that 
takes  rank  with  the  most  important  fiction  of  the  year. 
It  is  not  a  book  for  those  who  read  to  be  amused  or  to  be 
entertained.  It  touches  the  deepest  issues  of  life  and  death." 

— Albany  Argus. 

"The  most  powerfully  written  book  of  the  year." 

—  The  Independent. 

'The  Guarded  Flame'  is  receiving  high  praise  from 
the  critics  everywhere." — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"This  is  a  book  which  cannot  fail  to  make  its  mark." 

— Detroit  News. 

"Great  novels  are  few  and  the  appearance  of  one  at 
any  period  must  give  the  early  reviewer  a  thrill  of  discovery. 
Such  a  one  has  come  unheralded  ;  but  from  a  source  whence 
it  might  have  been  confidently  expected.  The  author  is 
W.  B.  Maxwell,  son  of  the  voluminous  novelist  known  to 
the  world  as  Miss  Braddon.  His  novel  is  entitled  *  The 
Guarded  Flame/  "—Philadelphia  Press. 

"  The  books  of  W.  B.  Maxwell  are  essentially  for  think 
ers." — St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

The  Victory. 

By  MOLLY  ELLIOTT  SEAWELL,  author  of  "The 
Chateau  of  Montplaisir,"  "  The  Sprightly  Romance 
of  Marsac,"  etc.  Illustrated.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  With  so  delicate  a  touch  and  appreciation  of  the  detail 
of  domestic  and  plantation  life,  with  so  wise  comprehension 
of  the  exalted  and  sometimes  stilted  notions  of  Southern 
honor  and  with  humorous  depiction  of  African  fidelity  and 
bombast  to  interest  and  amuse  him,  it  only  gradually  dawns 
on  a  reader  that  'The  Victory*  is  the  truest  and  most 
tragic  presentation  yet  before  us  of  the  rending  of  home 
ties,  the  awful  passions,  the  wounded  affections  personal 
and  national,  and  the  overwhelming  questions  of  honor 
which  weighed  down  a  people  in  the  war  of  son  against 
father  and  brother  against  brother." — Hartford  Courant. 

"  Among  the  many  romances  written  recently  about  the 
Civil  War,  this  one  by  Miss  Seawell  takes  a  high  place.  .  .  . 
Altogether,  'The  Victory,'  a  title  significant  in  several 
ways,  makes  a  strong  appeal  to  the  lover  of  a  good  tale." 

—  The  Outlook. 

"Miss  Seawell's  narrative  is  not  only  infused  with  a 
tender  and  sympathetic  spirit  of  romance  and  surcharged 
with  human  interests,  but  discloses,  in  addition,  careful  and 
minute  study  of  local  conditions  and  characteristic  man 
nerisms.  It  is  an  intimate  study  of  life  on  a  Virginia 
plantation  during  an  emergent  and  critical  period  of  Amer 
ican  history." — Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  romances  that  make,  by  spirit  as  well  as 
letter,  for  youth  and  high  feeling.  It  embodies,  perhaps,  the 
best  work  this  author  yet  has  done." — Chicago  Record- Her  old. 

"Aside  from  the  engaging  story  itself  and  the  excellent 
manner  in  which  it  is  told  there  is  much  of  historic  interest 
in  this  vivid  word-picture  of  the  customs  and  manners  of  a 
period  which  has  formed  the  background  of  much  fiction." 

— Brooklyn  Citizen, 

D.    APPLETON    AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK 


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